Love Story
by LxISxAxBABE
Summary: All her life, Elizabeta Herdervary struggled, but that never changed her outlook and optimism. Yet when things start looking up, everything goes south in the midst of two men. Vague description is vague, read this to find out. Roderich v Gilbert.
1. Prologue

A/N: I wrote this forever ago and I promised to post it, but it's like a zillion chapters long so I delayed. But here it is! I'm not gonna put a bajillion author notes either, so this will the one of the only times you hear me here. Lucky you. :P

Disclaimer: This applies to this entire story. I own nothing but the idea of the story. The characters belong to the creator, not me.

* * *

June 12, 1790

I saw Gil again. He's finally stronger than me, so he's super-happy. I told him it was because I wasn't feeling good. He believed me, yay! But I can't pretend I'm sick forever! Why aren't I getting stronger too? Plus, my chest is starting to hurt, too… I might really be sick…

To you with love,

Liza

* * *

"Ha! You can't even win a swordfight anymore?" a silver-haired boy called out, cackling with mirth. A young girl glanced up from her spot on the ground.

"You cheated," she said, "I'm still more a man than you." She got to her feet and brushed her faded tunic off, then pointed her stick threateningly.

"One more round," she challenged. He shook his head and sat down under an oak tree, his legs slightly bent and his back to the bark.

"I'm not going to make you cry again."

"I wasn't crying!"

"Are you sure you're not a girl?" he asked skeptically, glancing at her sidelong. She flushed.

"Yeah, I'm sure! I'm a boy, same as you! Do you doubt _yourself_?" He shook his head

"Well, you sure act like a girl." The girl narrowed her eyes.

"Take that back."

"_Nein_," he said, "Why should I take back the truth?" The little brunette girl scowled.

"You're being the girl here! Sitting out because you don't want to lose." He hunched his shoulders and folded his arms.

Both children were hardly nine, yet their traits were so very different. The young girl, with her cropped auburn hair and curious green eyes, and being the more positive individual, chose the politer course of action. She knelt down and folded her hands.

"Fine. What do you want to play?" The albino child across from her looked up. With his red eyes and perpetual smirk, he looked cut out to be an executioner or a demon of some sort. He was self-centered to a fault, and had no friends save for one gender-confused girl. She was the only he opened his heart to.

"… I kinda wanna just sit," he confessed, "Grandpa 'Mania was really worried last night… he kept me up 'cause he kept walking past my room." The young girl shook her head.

"I'm gonna climb the tree then," she declared, getting up. The boy looked apprehensive.

"You'll hurt yourself-"

"I'm not gonna fall," she promised, and she hurried to the tree. Her little hands somehow found handholds on the rough bark, and she scrambled up the tree like a large squirrel. The silver-headed child got to his feet, watching his young friend with a mixture of awe and worry.

"Don't climb too far," he warned her.

"What are you, scared?" she shot back, straddling a thick branch to look down at her friend. He colored and shook his head furiously.

"Not at all!" She giggled gleefully and grabbed the next branch, hoisting her youthful body up higher, higher. The boy on the ground furrowed his brow with disquiet.

"Oi, Lize!" he shouted up the tree.

"Hold on-!" she began to shout down, but there was a crack. The branch she had been using to support her weight snapped under her feet, and she began to fall. Both children were terrified, too afraid to make a noise but somehow the boy's body acted alone. He thrust himself forward, under her falling form, his eyes squeezed shut. She landed in his arms and made him stumble. But he forced himself to fall backwards, so she landed on his chest with an 'Oomph!'

"Gilbert…" she looked down at her horizontal friend, "You saved me! Thanks!" he smiled weakly as she got off of him.

"No prob," he said, wheezing slightly as he sat up, "But you need to go on a diet!" She scowled and punched him, making him fall on his back again.

"Jerk." He chuckled faintly and sat up. Then his eyes lit up, as if he remembered something.

"Oh! Grandpa wanted me home early! Oh, no!" he scrambled to his feet and brushed the leaves and dirt from his white tunic. "I'll talk to you later, Lize!" He turned and dashed away, leaving Lize waving goodbye to a shadow.

* * *

June 15, 1790

I haven't seen Gilbert in a few days. I kind of miss his company- he was my only friend here. Daddy says we're moving again, too. Really soon. I want to talk to Gil before I go- I wanna say goodbye to him.

To you, afraid

Liza

* * *

The boy was knelt under the oak tree, staring at his hands dejectedly when the brunette girl found him.

"Gil!" he looked up for a moment before returning his gaze to his palm.

"Hi, Lize." She knelt in front of him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, trying to peer into his face. He looked away.

"Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing," she said decidedly, leaning back and folding her arms. He closed his hand loosely and closed his eyes.

"It's nothing."

"… Fine. If you don't want to tell me, listen to me." He nodded slowly.

"My daddy said we're moving again," she said, frowning. He looked up, eyes wide.

"What?"

"Yeah," she said, looking at her friend unhappily, "He says we need to go east. I don't know what that means, but I know I'm moving away." He looked away and rubbed his eyes with his wrist.

"Well… my grandpa said that I'm going to go 'become a knight'."

"What's that mean?"

"It means I'm going away!" he snapped, rubbing his eyes more furiously. The girl flinched back a little.

"So even if I wasn't moving, I wouldn't be able to see you for a long time." He nodded.

"Yeah…"

"Are you crying, Gilbert?" she asked. He shook his head and turned away.

"I got something in my eye!"

"…" she moved close and hugged him. "It's okay to cry. I'm sad too. I don't want to not see you again." He took a shuddering breath.

"You're just… my only friend, you know?" he said softly, "And I'm not going to see you again." She shook her head.

"We'll find each other again someday. We're too good of friends not to, right?" he looked at her finally, his red eyes rimmed with red.

"You think so?" she smiled warmly.

"I know so." He hung his head.

"We could run away," he said suddenly. She looked up. "What?"

"You and me," he said, turning to her, "We're both tough. We could run away, and live in the woods like wild animals and eat fire-cooked foods! We could survive, and we'd never need to leave!" She shook her head, and his face fell a little.

"Gilbert, that's crazy. We can't just run away. What would your grandpa say? How would my parents feel? That'd be selfish."

"So you don't care that we'll never see each other again?" he asked angrily, folding his arms. The young girl regarded the boy gently.

"Gil, don't be mad. I don't want to leave- ever. I like it here! And we'll see each other again. It's certain."

"How do you know?" he asked gruffly, sniffling.

"Because I know," she said cryptically. She moved closer to him.

"Who's the girl now? You're crying."

"I'm not crying," he said stubbornly. She chuckled.

"Whatever you say- Gilerina."

"What kind of name is that?"

"Your name," she cackled. He scowled. Then he whipped around and tackled her, pinning her to the ground.

"I'm still stronger than you!"

"Only 'cause you're fat!" she retorted.

"Am not! You're the fat one!"

"No, you are!" They wrestled for a little while, until Liza ceded and let the contented albino child sit on her.

"I win," he said smugly.

"I let you," she replied bitterly. He smirked. Then he slumped.

"This is the last time I can play with you," he said dolefully. She nodded, feeling a sadness settle over her.

"Yeah," she deadpanned softly. They sat in silence for a while, after he slid off from her stomach. They spent the rest of their time together staring at the clouds in silent communication.

* * *

A/N: Like it? Hate it? I'm running on fumes and trying to publish quickly, so tell me if I messed up anywhere. O.O R&R, and suggest stuffs if you want~ I like suggestions. They make me smile. :P


	2. Chapter 1

January 5, 1797

Young Master Edelstein says I've gotten better at playing piano, but I don't believe him. I still stumble on the simplest of things, unlike him. He makes it look so easy! One day, I might be as good as him, but by then, he'll be world-famous.

He's been acting oddly lately. He won't hold my gaze anymore, and jerks his hand back when he touches me. I think I did something, but what? Should I apologize? Or is it because he learned that I sleep in a tent recently? Maybe he thinks I have some kind of gross peasant germs. He's still a bit prissy, I suppose.

To you, from my heart,

Elizabeta

* * *

Everyday, dutifully, the young woman would stay after her shift was over and sit by the young Edelstein at the piano. He would teach her different chords, scales, songs, with the persistence of a stubborn child. Soon, she could play simple songs without his help, and he would just listen, smiling at her progress. Or so she thought. She didn't realize the flutter she caused in his chest when her hand brushed his, or how fast his pulse raced when she looked at him with those big green eyes. Oh, yes, he had fallen for the poor sheparddess, and had fallen hard. He was enamored by her in a way no other girl had achieved. That was not to say that he had vocalized his feelings at all. Despite his seemingly forward nature, he was quite shy regarding these things. He was too afraid she felt differently. After all, it had only been a few months since they had actually spoken with each other. He didn't want to undermine the 'fragile' relationship he had cultivated with the poor girl.

Elizabeta, on the other hand, had no clue as to what the wealthy teen's feelings were. She attributed the tell-tale signs of affection to feelings of disgust at her poor living conditions and simple upbringing. She thought he wouldn't touch her because he feared ailments. That he moved away because she smelled of canvas and dirt. He couldn't look her in the eye anymore, because he didn't want to feel like he was looking at a pauper, she thought. It frustrated her more than it did upset her. Never once did she vocalize her unhappiness though, lest she upset him, and he have her fired. (She never dropped her distrust of the young Edelstein, despite their friendship. It was the deep-seated fear of the wealthy that so many destitute individuals such as her harbored.) So she endured his distance with a small smile and a curtsey.

"Elizabeta…"

"Hm?"

"You're playing the wrong notes."

"Oh! I'm sorry," she said quickly, drawing her hands back, "I'm a little… distracted today." He offered an understanding smile, a little curl of the lips.

"Here, let me help…" He went to guide her hands, but his hands twitched back a little when he touched her. He prayed she didn't see it. Unfortunately, fate was not so kind.

Annoyance finally surfaced in the girl and she got to her feet quickly.

"Fine! I know. I'm poor. I sleep in a tent. I probably smell like dirt, right? But you don't need to pretend to want to help me if I'm so repugnant! It's rude!" Roderich was stunned, and the girl balled her hands into fists.

"You don't need to hide your contempt from me. I can see it. But I can't help what I am," she continued, letting the words flow like water. It was too late to stop, anyway. "I can't help how I live, and I wouldn't if I could! So you can accept it, or you can fire me! I… I can find another job if I need to." Then she fell silent. Her outburst meant no supper tonight so she could use her savings to buy meals tomorrow while she looked for a new job.

Roderich was silent, mulling over her words. He looked into her face, her downcast eyes and teeth on her lip as she chewed it nervously, and he got up.

"You thought… I was repulsed by you?" he asked softly. She looked up, abusing her lower lip with worry.

"Aren't you?"

"Not at all," he replied honestly, "I admire you, for what you go through daily. I've never lived any way but in this house, never seen the countryside… and you've seen it all, living as we used to… it's admirable." He looked down now, and threw caution to the wind.

"I… I'm utterly captivated by you, Ms. Herdervary," he said, using her title embarrassedly, "I'm awed by your strength of character, your talent, your attitude… I've never seen a girl so naturally beautiful and so utterly unaware of it." He looked up, and the young woman was blushing, wide-eyed.

"W…what?"

"I guess what I'm trying to say," he said, laughing nervously, "Is that I've fallen for you, and hard." Then he turned away.

"B-but I'll understand completely if you don't feel the same, and it won't affect your position as a maid here-"

"I thought… you hated me," she said softly, stepping forward, "I thought you thought I was a dirty peasant. You… like me?"

"W-well, in simpler terms… y-yes, I do," he stammered, fiddling with his cravat. She smiled; it was a bright warm smile, the warmest she had offered since she left her dearest friend, seven years ago.

"I… like you too, Roderich," she said. That was the first time she addressed him as an equal. He turned around, and she grinned. His heart melted.

"I'm glad this isn't one-sided anymore," he said, letting a weary smile fall into place. She nodded.

"But why wouldn't you touch me…?" she asked softly, as they returned to their seats on the bench.

"…" to answer this, he only blushed. "That's unimportant." She giggled, smoothed her skirts, and rested her hands on the keys.

They spent their first afternoon as a couple in the music room, only ending it when Elizabeta insisted on leaving so she could have supper, bathe, and clean her tent before the winter thaw.


	3. Chapter 2

August 17, 1797

I think Roderich is afraid of kissing me, hahaha! He gets all red and turns away. But when my tribe visited the Normans, I saw things far worse than a kiss on the cheek. When I told him that, he got even redder. We were brought up so differently! It's funny how we are so different and we are a couple. Maybe one day I'll get him to come from his shell.

From me to you with laughter,

Elizabeta

* * *

The Edelsteins hadn't the faintest idea of their son's relationship with the maid. They didn't even notice the extra time they spent together. They were just a bit happy that their son had found someone to chat to, even if that someone was… a savage from the East.

Roderich was hesitant to tell his parents of his relationship with Elizabeta, since she was the house servant, and poor. It was uncouth to form an intimate relationship with the lower class. He tried to tell his brain that, but his heart disobeyed. And how could he deny it the love of a lovely, perfect young woman? She was perfect, his heart told him, she was ideal. It would be sheer folly to let such a catch go because of social standing. So in the end, he chose to love her in secret. His parents were ever unaware, and he wasn't willing to test his luck.

Elizabeta was also kept unaware. Roderich didn't want to hurt her by explaining, so he chose instead to hide it. She wouldn't find out ever, if he could help it, and he wouldn't tell his parents of their taboo relationship until he moved out of their house.

That was until his parents asked him to lunch with a young woman from a socially adept family.

"Mother, Father," he said exasperatedly, "What is your goal in this?"

"We just want you to be happy," his mother said.

'We want to find you a suitable wife," his father said.

"I hate to be frank," he said icily, "But I don't need your help." His father rose from his chair like an ancient idol.

"I think you do. You're always cooped up in the music room with our servant girl."

"Son," his mother said gently, folding her hands on her lap, "It's nice to see you've made a friend, but we think it's high time you go out and find someone… more suitable to spend the rest of your life with."

"What if I want to live my life as a bachelor?" he asked frigidly.

"You need to uphold the Edelstein lineage," his father said sternly. Elizabeta had been passing at that moment, passing the parlor to clean the kitchen.

"You there! Girl!" Mr. Edelstein lifted a hand and beckoned her over. "Don't you agree that spends too much time in the house?" she nodded.

"If I may be so frank, yes, I agree, sir," she said politely, bowing her head.

"See?" he said to his son. Then he turned back to the young girl. "He needs to go out and find a wife, am I correct?" she looked up, surprised. Roderich felt his heart drop.

"What do you… oh… you haven't…." she asked, turning to the young man. Roderich looked away guiltily. Elizabeta's face fell, and she looked down and curtseyed.

"I… I agree, Master Edelstein." He looked back toward his wife and son in modest triumph. Roderich was panicking inside, trying to see the girl's face, but she kept it turned away.

"If you'll excuse me, Master Edelstein," she said softly, "I was just going to wash the morning's dishes."

"Go," he said nonchalantly, "Thank you." She nodded, curtseyed politely, and exited.

"See? Even the uncultured maid girl agrees." Roderich jumped to his feet and hurried out, an action his parents had never seen of him.

"Is he feeling all right?" Mrs. Edelstein asked her husband, who merely shrugged.

"Elizabeta! Elizabeta, please! Talk to me!" He burst into the kitchen. The girl was up to her elbows in soapy water. Her back was to the doorway.

"Hello, Master Edelstein," she said icily, "Is there something you require from me?"

""I can explain, Elizabeta-"

"No need," she replied, setting a clean dish down roughly, "I don't care what your reasoning is." She began to rub violently at the next dish, hoping the man wouldn't come closer lest he see her tears.

"Please, just listen-"

"I don't know why I should!" she snapped, slamming the dish down and splashing foam and water everywhere. Then she froze, picked up the dish, and continued washing it. "I think I understand it, anyway, sir. Now, please, let me finish my work so I may return home." He stepped closer, and both teens flinched at the sound his heel made when it struck the wooden floor.

"Elizabeta…"

"Stop saying my name," she said, her voice weakening. She set the dish down carefully.

"Please… look at me…"

"Don't come closer!" He disobeyed, and when he could, he put his arms around her shoulders and held her.

"I'm so, so sorry," he whispered, "I didn't want to hurt you…" She felt herself crying again.

"How would that not hurt me?"

"My parents don't understand… they're old-fashioned, they don't understand… I didn't want to subject you to their scrutiny… I was going to tell them when we left this house, where you would be safe from them…" She let out a choked sob and dropped the dish. The young man turned her in his arms and held her to his chest.

"I thought what I was doing was right," he whispered, brushing her hair behind her ear gently, "But I was being a coward." Her arms curled around him, slowly at first, and she buried her face in his shoulder. Since she had started crying, she couldn't persuade her tears to stop.

"I think I've ruined your shirt," she chuckled softly, when she saw the tear marks on his shoulder.

"I can buy another," he replied, "There's only one thing in this house that isn't replaceable, and I'm holding her now."

"Excuse me?" they both turned to the doorway. In the heat of the moment, they forgot the other residents of the house. Mr. and Mrs. Edelstein stood in the doorway, wearing completely different expressions. The madam's face was contorted into something that resembled shock, and her hands were clapped over her mouth tightly. Mr. Edelstein was a different matter. He was livid, if his expression said anything. His arms were folded across his chest, and he was trying to look elegant while remaining furious. This resulted in an amusing image, but neither teen were willing to laugh at the moment.

"Did my ears deceive me?" the woman said, uncovering her mouth before covering it again. Roderich turned to the side and held Elizabeta away as if protecting her from his parents.

"Is this why you're refusing to lunch with Ms. Wynter?" his father asked, stepping forward.

"Yes," the teen said resolutely, "I have someone already."

"A savage from the East?" the man asked coldly, looking upon his son with unfeeling eyes.

"She's not a savage," Roderich replied angrily.

"She's a peasant!" his mother continued.

"She's wonderful," he countered.

"She's our servant!" his father concluded angrily, "If you insist on this foolish courting, then she's replaceable!" Elizabeta gasped and cowered slightly. This was it. She wasn't prepared- she had just spent a good sum of money for a new pair of shoes, and she was relying on the next paycheck for the week's meals.

"You can't just fire her after all the work she's put in here!" the young man shouted.

"Yes, I can," the angry man replied, "And I will." Roderich held the girl tighter.

"That's unfair! I finally find happiness, and you tear her away from me, merely because she's poor? That's discrimination!"

"We're just looking out for your best interest, Roderich-" his mother began.

"Then let me be with who I want! Isn't that the best for me? To let me make my own choices?" His father narrowed his eyes.

"Get out of my sight. I'm going to talk with our servant girl without your imprudence obstructing our decision." Roderich's eyes shifted to regard his worried beauty, and reluctantly, he released her.

"I'll be in the music room," he said, "Come and see me after… please." She nodded, and he squeezed her hand a final time before leaving. He made sure to brush his parents while he exited. Mr. Edelstein approached the girl, who bowed her head.

"I apologize for my imprudence, sir," she began quickly, "I didn't realize it would be-" The man grabbed her chin and jerked her face upward and studied it. She swallowed and waited. He released her and turned to his wife.

"Do you think we could make her look wealthier?"

"I don't know… she's got the telltale marks of a pauper… but with enough makeup and money, no one should be able to tell the difference." The woman stepped forward and examined the girl carefully. "If she's going out in public, she'll have to get a new dress."

"What?" Elizabeta's eyes widened. The woman clucked.

"No, no, no. You speak so crudely! This won't do at all."

"I'm sure you can teach her otherwise," the man replied, chuckling.

"Excuse me," she said softly, and they looked at her, "Could you please explain what's going on?" her voice began rising in pitch halfway through her sentence, so the last word ended as a squeak. The woman shook her head.

"Foolish girl. Can't you see? We can't have it look as through our family needs to turn to the poor to find a wife for our finicky son." The girl's eyes were wide, and the woman sighed.

"She's quite dense, isn't she?" She stared at the girl stonily. "What I'm saying is that we're going to make you look like you're from a wealthy family, like us, to preserve our son's status. Because he insists on being with you- and I haven't the faintest idea why- we need to make you like us. Do you understand?" she turned and before the girl could answer, sighed loudly. "She probably doesn't- it's too complicated for her primitive mind!"

"I-I understand perfectly," Elizabeta stammered, "It's just… why? Why aren't you firing me? I… I guess I don't understand…"

"Dear, you're confusing her," Mr. Edelstein said, "Let me speak with her."

"Feel free!" the woman said, sighing dramatically, "I'm done with her!" She took a seat and crossed her legs elegantly. The man turned to Elizabeta.

"Our son is a fool," he said bluntly, "And he insists on defying us. So in order to keep the peace in our house, we're appeasing him. Now!" he clapped his hands decidedly. "We need to get you new clothes, and you're to live under our roof… ah! You'll live in the east wing, beside the music room." The poor girl's head was spinning. _What's going on_? She wondered.

"You and I are going now," the woman said, standing again, "We're going to buy you a lovely new dress, I am going to comb that ratty mess you call hair, and will you please take out that filthy rag in your hair!" Elizabeta yanked the bandana from her hair quickly, and the woman continued. "We're going to put makeup on that poor face of yours, and I'm going to tutor you. You're no longer a maid in the Edelstein house- you are a member of the family. But until you are a true lady, you're not to interact with anyone but us in the house. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Elizabeta found herself saying. The woman nodded approvingly.

"Good, good. Let us go then." She began to leave and the brunette girl followed, too stunned for words.

* * *

Roderich waited in the music room for a few hours, playing the piano, wondering. Did they force her to leave? Why hadn't she come yet? Was there a standoff?

He practiced the violin for a while, but found it frustrating and switched through every instrument periodically. And finally, when he could take it no longer and decided to leave, the door to the music room opened.

"Elizab-!" he fell silent as the young woman entered.

"Your mother…" the girl muttered, brushing herself off. Wasn't she a sight! Her hair was pulled back from her face, not with a bandana, but with a long crimson ribbon. A few curls hung down by rouged cheeks. Mrs. Edelstein had insisted on painting her face with various powdered and creams, but the result was quite stunning. Her great green eyes stood out brighter, fringed with long, dark lashes. Her lips were a soft pink, rather than a harsh red, and her cheeks wore a high, manmade blush that emphasized her already lofty cheekbones. Roderich took in the sight, too surprised to speak and too desperate not to.

"You look… lovely," he said at last. Elizabeta looked down at herself.

"I look like a doll," she replied irritably. It was true. With the long dress of emerald she wore, the tiny golden locket around her neck, and the way her lips were pursed _just_ _right_, she looked like a life-sized porcelain doll. She walked over.

"I feel stiff and fake," she complained, "I don't like pretending to be rich."

"What?" They sat at the piano together, and she sighed noisily.

"Your parents told me I have to pretend to be rich so I can stay with you." She looked up. "I didn't know it was this hard! I used to think your type had it easy!" He began to laugh.

"You'll get used to it." Then he looked at the piano. "I'm so surprised they let you keep working here-"

"I'm not working here anymore," Elizabeta interrupted. He looked at her, surprised.

"What?"

"I'm an official member of the family," she began haughtily, then laughed. "Until I'm an 'upstanding member of high society'. My room is right next door." Roderich was shocked.

"Wait, they let you stay?"

"Yup!" she said, grinning, "They kept me- but I'm not a maid anymore. I hope they feed me…" she murmured worriedly. He smiled.

"That's wonderful!" he said, and he clasped her hands with his. "I'm so glad you're staying…" she looked up with those big, made-up eyes, and his heart caught in his throat. She truly was the most beautiful creature on the earth.

"Stop staring, you're making me self-conscious!" she said, closing her eyes tightly and turning away. "Do I really look that bad?" He chuckled softly.

"No; you're beautiful." She looked up in surprise, emerald eyes wide, and he leaned in and kissed her for the first time. It was just… right. Her hands fell limp in his, before she jerked them away and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands fell to her petite waist. Youth made them inexperienced, their eyes closed, their hearts racing. And when he pulled away, Elizabeta was left breathless.

"That was…" she murmured softly. He smiled and got up.

"Shall I walk you to your room, Ms. Herdervary?" She nodded and got to her feet carefully. She took his offered arm and followed him out, still in a stupor. Was this really her Roderich? Yes, she decided as he stopped at her new room. He opened the door and she peered in. It was surely built for a queen!

"A… Are you sure this is my room?" she asked, turning to him. He nodded.

"Why? Is it too small?" She nearly fell into the wall.

"No! It's massive!" She all but sprinted in the room and looked around. The ceiling seemed so far away! One wall seemed to be entirely glass, with a bench under one window. There was a massive bookcase against another wall, and a door leading elsewhere.

"Oh, you got a small closet," he mused, opening the door. Elizabeta stumbled and caught herself. It was twice the size of her tent!

"That's small?"

"I see she's found her room." Both looked up at the figure in the door. Mrs. Edelstein entered the room, taking long but controlled strides. "Is it too extravagant for a nomad?"

"A little," the girl replied, sitting on her bed.

"Well, then again, you _did_ live in the wild like a cave being," she replied dismissively. Elizabeta cringed slightly at her tone.

"Tomorrow, you and I are going to go shopping-" _again_! The girl thought exasperatedly, "And we're going to get you a nice formal dress." Roderich chuckled and his mother shot him a warning look, which he fell silent at.

"Yes, ma'am," the girl said respectfully. The woman nodded assuredly.

"You're going to spend much of the day learning manners, young lady-"

"Yes, ma'am."

"-Starting with table manners at breakfast-"

"Yes, ma'am."

"-Social manners when you're out in public-"

"Yes, ma'am."

"-and the proper way to sit, walk, and stand," she concluded, turning back to the girl.

"Yes, ma'am," Elizabeta said, thoroughly enjoying her little game. The woman didn't seem to notice, but Roderich did, and he shot her a cautionary look. The girl shook her head and giggled.

"Pardon me!" Mrs. Edelstein said, puffing herself indignantly. The young nomadic girl looked up raptly, and the woman clucked.

"We need to work on your attention span as well, girl."

"Yes, ma'am," Elizabeta replied. The woman turned away, and Elizabeta grinned. Roderich shook his head, mouthing something to the elated girl.

"I'll find you a nightgown to wear to bed, but we'll need to purchase one for you. I don't want you ruining mine."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll take care of the one you lend me until I get my own."

"You'd best, girl."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Roderich, dear, watch her while I find some old negligee for her to wear." He nodded.

"Yes, Mother."

"Don't get sarcastic with me!" the woman snapped, and he nodded.

"Sorry, Mother." She scowled and left, and Elizabeta burst into fit of giggles.

"That was foolish!" he said exasperatedly, and he sat beside her. She grinned.

"I got away with it though." Then she laid back and sighed. "This bed is so plush…"

"Really? It's the firmest one in the house."

"Compared to the ground, it's like a cloud," she replied dreamily. He shook his head.

"This is gonna be a big change for you, hunh?"

"Mm hmm." Elizabeta yawned. "This is making me sleepy."

"Well, you'll be able to sleep on a mattress tonight."

"Mm hmm," the girl repeated sleepily. There was the click of heels, and Roderich got to his feet.

"Girl!"

"Mm?"

"Get up!" She leapt up.

"I'm sorry, ma'am!" She bowed embarrassedly, and the woman huffed.

"Keep your sorries, and change into this." She thrust the cotton nightgown into the girl's arms. "Tomorrow, we'll get you your own." She turned. "Roderich! Don't be a lecher and come with me." The boy flushed.

"Mother!"

"We both know you would," the woman said, exiting. Roderich waved shortly to the girl, and with a smile, he shut the door. Elizabeta got to her feet and looked at the nightwear she was given. It was a simple cotton dress, a pale yellow, and lined with buttons from about the belly button to the top. When she changed into it, it was soft and light. She curled up under the light silk and linen sheets, and within moments, drifted into blissful unawares.


	4. Chapter 3

October 27, 1797

Mrs. Edelstein is a tough teacher, but I think I'm doing well. She hasn't yelled at me much, and she even let me go to the last ball! I think I can almost fit in with the snobs!

Roderich has been trying to get into a musical college. Can you believe he's already 18? It seems like just last year that I met him- but then again, it WAS just last year! He's really stressed though, so I'm trying to stay out of his way. I hope he doesn't think I'm avoiding him.

My happiest expressions,

Elizabeta

* * *

It hadn't been that long, yet Elizabeta had undergone a total transformation. Her hair had grown out even longer and was trimmed to an even length. She was forbidden from wearing her bandana, but instead wore a long ribbon to hold her hair from her eyes. Mrs. Edelstein had cut her bangs so they hung straight over her eyes, but she messed them up and brushed them over, just to feel like herself. She was forced to wear tight corsets and jewelry of all sorts, and often complained about feeling like a doll rather than a girl. She went around barefoot unless she couldn't help it. Mr. Edelstein had warmed up to her dramatically, and when his wife wasn't around, he let her dress in pants and a man's shirt when she relaxed. Even Mrs. Edelstein was less strict with her in the house. The one thing both adults enforced was the task of weaning Elizabeta of her habits as a maid. When she did the dishes, they scolded her. When she washed the household's laundry, she was scolded. Yet despite her scolding, she continued to independently care for herself. After breakfast, she always washed her dishes first, so when the told her to stop, she had cleaned up after herself. When she did laundry, hers was always first on the rack, drying before they pulled her away.

"It's uncouth for a young maiden to work like a servant!" Mrs. Edelstein said exasperatedly.

"I'm not, ma'am," Elizabeta replied, "I'm washing my own dishes and my own clothes."

"That's the maid's job."

"It _was_ my job until a few months ago," Elizabeta replied, her tone slightly biting. The woman picked up on the attitude in her voice.

"Would you like to return to that?" the woman threatened. Her husband, perched indolently on his overstuffed chair with a pipe, spoke up.

"Darling, leave Elizabeta alone," he said lazily, "If she wants to act like a peasant, let her. It's the last bit of her culture she has." Elizabeta didn't comment on his stereotyping, because he wasn't obliged to help her in this fight.

"What she's doing is ruining her lovely hands!" the woman shot back irritably. She grabbed on of the girl's thirsty hands and held it up as an example. "She has the most beautiful hands- or rather; she would if she treated them better!"

"I like my hands like this," Elizabeta said. The woman sighed histrionically.

"Fine, fine. Obviously, I can't get through to you." She released the girl's hand and turned.

"I'm going to visit Madam Lorene's house," she told her husband, brushing her hand behind her ear.

"Have fun, dear," he said, and the woman nodded.

"I'll return for sup." She left and shut the door tightly behind her. Elizabeta turned to the man.

"Thank you, Mr. Edelstein."

"It's nothing," he replied, taking a long draw from his pipe. "Roderich was looking for you, by the way. He said to find him in the music room." The girl was surprised.

"Did he seem upset?"

"Not at all. Why?" the man sat up straighter. "Did something occur between you two?" Elizabeta shook her head.

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all." She curtseyed politely, pulled the ribbon from her hair and tossed her mane of caramel curls freely, laughed and turned. The man smiled quietly. In the months she had been here, she had become like a daughter. A tomboy daughter. And despite her complaints, his wife agreed with him. She was family now.

The girl kicked off her tiny slippers and carried them while she sprinted through the house. No one could tell her not to; no one had seen her like this except Roderich. But she slowed before the music room, brushed her dress off, brushed her hair behind an ear, and knocked.

"Come in," came the reply. She opened the door and entered, and there was the familiar picture. Roderich, seated on the piano bench, his head lowered while he played softly. He hadn't changed much since she had come. His hair was still perfect, tamed save for the rogue curl. He still wore the same glasses, the same aubergine coat with the multitude of buttons and white cravat. His expression was always 'refined', tranquil, placid.

"Roderich, you wanted to see me?" He looked up and the soft music stopped.

"Elizabeta…" He moved over on the music bench, and she sat beside him. He was smiling, but it looked controlled.

"What is it?" she asked, looking at him. He finally made eye contact, and he was practically beaming.

"I made it in," he said simply. Her green eyes widened. Then she broke out in a radiant smile.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" She threw her arms around him, and they just laughed and cheered.

"I'm so happy for you!" Elizabeta said, beaming. He was blushing slightly.

"Thank you," he replied, "I don't think I could have made it without you." Her smile fell away for a moment.

"What do you mean? You did all the work," she said, her lips forming an unintentional pout. He chuckled.

"You gave me the drive to keep working. You gave me the courage to try out. You gave me a reason to want to go." He held her chin and her gaze. "Elizabeta… I love you." Her heart leapt to her throat. Her words wouldn't work for her, despite her best efforts, so all she said was:

"R-really?" He laughed.

"Yes, really." He leaned down and kissed her gently, before smiling gently. She was flushed, totally overcome.

"I almost worried that I was ahead of myself," he confided, taking her hands, "But I couldn't be; not when I've so much feeling for you. I mean it when I say it, Elizabeta. I truly love you." Her eyes filled with tears, and he was surprised.

"Did I say too much?"

"N-no!" She cried out, burying her face in his chest, "I love you t-too, Roderich!" She held him tightly, crying tears of joy into his jacket. He chuckled.

"You didn't need to cry, Elizabeta," he mused, putting his arms around her.

"I kn-know!" He only laughed and stroked her hair idly. _She's so warm_, he thought with a smile, _do all girls feel this way? No, they can't. She's special._

"W… when are you leaving for college?" she asked softly, into the soft silk of his coat.

"Next week," he said.

"Can I visit you?"

"Of course. I'll come home every couple of weeks just to see you."

"Really?"

"Yes," he said, stroking her hair gently, "I'll bring flowers, too."

"Don't waste your money on me," she said, laughing. Her cheeks were stained crimson.

"It's not wasting if it's spent on you," he said softly. The young woman blushed brighter.

"Don't say things like that!" she stammered. He chuckled and held her to his chest gently.

"I can't help it. I'm a slave to my feelings for you, Elizabeta." The man laughed as the girl's cheeks turned an unearthly shade of crimson. Then she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Will it always be this great, Roderich?" He smiled gently.

"Of course," he said gently. "We'll get our own house, and we'll have a great life. Just the two of us."

"What if I want kids?" Elizabeta said, her tone light. A smile graced her lips.

"We'll have a dozen if you want," Roderich promised. She laughed. They just lay like that until supper, and no one asked because it was none of their concern.


	5. Chapter 4

February 11, 1798

Roderich remembered my birthday! He brought me roses and gifts… but the best thing was when he brought me to the lake after dinner, and we just watched the sunset together. I'm so in love. Every page of this notebook must be covered in my exclamations of devotion to that man. But everyday, every time I see him, he makes me fall in love again. And we haven't even been together for two years. It's a fairytale.

Truly yours,

Elizabeta

* * *

April 5, 1798

He's been gone for a month… I miss him, and I think about him every day. His mom got mad because I plucked apart a rose, thinking about his great smile and kind eyes and strong arms and warm chest. But I can't help it! He needs to graduate and come home!

Forever yours,

Elizabeta

* * *

July 4, 1798

Mrs. Edelstein brought me to a formal ball, and eight or nine men came up to me and asked for a dance. I politely refused- some must have been fifty!- but they kept coming. Like ants at a picnic. I'm glad Roderich didn't see- he would have been so jealous!

With love,

Elizabeta

* * *

August 27, 1798

It's really hot in Vienna lately. I won't leave my room because I'm wearing boy's clothes, and Mrs. Edelstein will be furious with me. But it's so hot! I'll die of heatstroke before I did anything in those dresses. Mr. Edelstein knows; he thinks it's cute. He's kind to me like that. Not that Mrs. Edelstein isn't; but she's stricter. I miss Roderich very much. I haven't seen him since my birthday: did he forget his promise to visit me?

With love,

Elizabeta

* * *

November 1, 1798

I'm sick of waiting. My heart aches; I miss him more than I thought I would… But Mrs. Edelstein won't let me go and see him. I tried sneaking out, but even Mr. Edelstein opposed and stopped me. I'm not even allowed to visit him… and he won't come home. I want to cry, to shed the misery of his absence, but I won't. I'm a big girl; big girls don't cry.

With a wounded heart,

Elizabeta

* * *

March 4, 1799

I went to another ball today. A young man invited me to dance, and God be damned if I didn't accept. If Roderich doesn't feel the need to contact me for almost a year, why should I wait up any longer? I thought he loved me… but I was wrong. I'm moving on now… I'm curing my broken heart.

Healing slowly,

Elizabeta

* * *

June 1, 1799

Roderich sent a letter, but it was vague and impersonal. His parents know how angry I am- they didn't object when I ripped the letter up and threw it into the fire. I hope they tell him how outraged I am- maybe he'll actually respond to me.

Burning,

Elizabeta


	6. Chapter 5

July 18, 1799

Roderich is coming home tomorrow, and I have half a mind to hide so he won't find me. But I can't bring myself to be so cruel. I am, however, going to give him a piece of my mind.

Brimming with rage,

Elizabeta **Herdervary**

* * *

Elizabeta scowled as Mrs. Edelstein forced a heavy dress over her head.

"You need to look presentable when Roderich returns," she said, buttoning the corset tightly.

"Why?" the girl muttered, gasping as her torso was pulled into alignment by the strings on her back.

"Because he'll want to see you, and I don't want him seeing a girl dressed like a pauper," Mrs. Edelstein clucked, tying the lace tightly. Elizabeta muttered some coarse language under her breath, and Mrs. Edelstein rapped her on the back of the neck with her comb. Then she began to brush out the girl's long hair carefully, muttering 'what to do with this mess…'

"Why can't I choose my outfit for his return?" Elizabeta asked sullenly.

"Because you're angry," the woman replied, running her fingers through the dark waves in thought, "And you would take it out on him." Then she mumbled. "Not wrongly, however."

"No I wouldn't!" the girl cried out. Both knew she was lying, however. She would probably dress in men's clothes, wear a ring on a chain around her throat, and walk around barefoot.

"Can I… please?" she said, and she turned. The woman frowned, her brow creasing.

"…What are you planning?"

"I'll let you approve it," Elizabeta continued. Mrs. Edelstein studied her face.

"…I'll help you get out of this dress," she said simply, and she began to untie the ribbon binding the dress together. Elizabeta shimmied out of her dress and turned to her surrogate mother.

""I'll be quick," she promised, and in just her petticoat, she hurried to the maid's cabinet. Hanging on an old hanger was her dress. It was dusty and faded, but when she pulled it up her legs, it fit like a glove. She buttoned it carefully and dusted the apron off. Then she returned to her room, where Mrs. Edelstein waited patiently.

"… You're wearing that dress again," the woman said wearily. The creases in her face were more prominent as of late. She looked more tired lately.

"I need to," Elizabeta replied, and she walked to her closet.

"Here, let me do something," Mrs. Edelstein said. Elizabeta turned, and the woman was holding her old bandana. The girl was surprised, green eyes wide with wonder.

"How did you-?"

"I knew you kept it. I saw you wear it when you thought I wasn't looking," she replied, "It must mean a lot to you." The brunette girl bowed her head so the woman could put the faded red cloth in her hair.

"It does," Elizabeta replied softly, "It was a gift from a kind man in a place I lived. It was a gift of companionship, he said. He was really nice to me, and he took care of me when my parents were busy. I wear it in memory of him."

"And this?" the woman asked, and she held up the wooden cross. Elizabeta felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

"That… was from my dearest friend when I was younger. I was his only friend, and he, mine. We spent a lot of time together when I lived up north. But his grandfather made him train to become a knight, and I had to move…" She wiped her eyes on her wrists. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't cry, I haven't seen him in nine years…"

"I understand," the woman said, smiling gently. Carefully, she hung it around the girl's neck. "It looks nice on you, Elizabeta." Elizabeta blinked and let a few tears trickle down her cheeks.

"Thank you, ma'am," she murmured faintly. Mrs. Edelstein nodded. She turned.

"I'll invite Roderich in," she said softly, "You'll be in the music room, right?"

"Yes," the girl replied, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. The mother nodded faintly. "I'll tell him," she said, and with that she left. Elizabeta pulled up her stockings and slipped on her shoes, before crossing into the next room. It hadn't been used in six months, and dust had settled on everything due to lack of a maid. There was an old rag on the piano bench, and it felt right in the young girl's hand.

Each instrument was given extra care as she brushed the cobwebs away and cleaned the polished wood. The violin was set down carefully, the cello lavished with love, the harp stroked with care, the piano…

She sat down and caressed the keys with the fabric. This instrument had been there for her so often. The dust was cleared away, until it shined like it should. Then she brushed the bench off and dropped the rag. Her fingers found their places on the keys, like they remembered. The first notes startled her- did they play themselves? Then more notes followed, and she closed her eyes and let her hands take control. She remembered each song she had learned, and her fingers did the work. A soft melody danced around the room, bouncing off the walls and waltzing on the floor and ceiling. It had been played in this room many times before, but it never grew old to the pale walls and wide windows. Elizabeta felt a smile tug at her lips and she reached farther, farther…

She rarely played the lower keys, because Roderich was always there, to play the deeper note, to aid her and support her. But she had grown up. When that resonant note sounded, she felt a happiness she had only felt a few times in her life. Her hands stretched and she reached a higher note. She grinned brightly, not opening her eyes. She felt the smooth ivory under her fingers, that all-familiar smoothness, how it obeyed her movements…

She finished the song, growing softer and quieter, until the last note echoed off the walls almost imperceptibly. She shook her mane of russet and grinned like a child with a new toy.

There was soft applause, and her eyes flew open. She spun on the bench, and her eyes landed on the intruder.

Roderich leaned against the doorframe elegantly, clapping faintly. A twisted smile played on his lips, a wry turn of the lips. His glasses were low on the bridge of his nose, his hair was a little less tamed, and his clothes were a little less orderly, but it was still him. Elizabeta folded her arms.

"Hello, Elizabeta," he said, entering the room, "That was lovely- you must have been practicing while I was away." The girl scowled.

"Not like you would know." He stopped, his brows raised in surprise.

"What's wrong, Elizabeta?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied icily, turning back to the piano. "Nothing at all."

"It doesn't seem like nothing," he said stepping closer.

"Well, obviously," she said bitterly, and when he tried to sit down, she stood up. "Never mind, it doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," he said, following her lead and standing up, "And why are you wearing your old uniform? Did Mother demote you?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Elizabeta said lightly. She picked up the rag and began to wipe the imaginary dirt from the windowsill.

"Elizabeta… please, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it," he urged, stepping up behind her.

"It's a bit late, don't you think?" she muttered bitterly. He touched her shoulder, and she flinched. Was he really that close?

"Elizabeta… I haven't seen you in ages-"

"I know," she interrupted curtly.

"- and I really, really am sorry. I tried to come home, but-"

"I don't care," she said softly, "You don't know how painful it was at my end, do you?"

"I don't," he admitted, putting his arms around her waist gently, "I don't, but I'm willing to find out."

"How," she snapped, turning around in his arms. Her eyes locked on his. Her eyes burned with an undeniable rage, and his… were calm, were apologetic… were soft, like water.

"I've been waiting… since February to see you," she began slowly, feeling her resolve weaken, "You stopped coming…why?" she suddenly demanded, "You didn't even send me a letter… what was I supposed to think! That you were gallivanting with some cheap Austrian whore-"

"Elizabeta," he interrupted softly. She scowled.

"I wrote to you," Roderich said delicately, "I wrote every day. I guess they never reached you… But I thought of you every moment. I wanted to come home, but couldn't."

"Why?" she demanded.

"It's complicated," he whispered, brushing a stray wave behind her ear, "It was a research-type thing… but I'm done. I've graduated." He drew her closer, his nose brushing hers. "I'm home to stay." She stared into his eyes, unblinking.

"If you're lying, I will find a frying pan and beat you down," she threatened, and her voice cracked. He smiled.

"I'll let you, darling." And he leaned in and kissed her for the first time in over a year. Elizabeta melted into his arms, clutching him as if he would disappear if she released him.

"Elizabeta," he said softly, when they parted.

"Yes?" he released her and backed away a little. Her expression changed from confused to shock as he sunk to one knee and reached into his pocket.

"Roderich…!"

"Elizabeta, I love you," he said softly, fishing a box from his pocket. She brought her hands to her mouth in shock.

"Every time I see you, I fall in love again. Every time I hear you voice, no matter how weary, you rejuvenate me. My heart melts when you laugh, and breaks when you cry. I have never felt so strongly about anyone, not even my own family." He opened the box slowly, and Elizabeta gasped at the sparkle of gold and diamonds.

"Elizabeta Herdervary," he said slowly, "Will you marry me?" Elizabeta's expression changed, but her hands remained over her mouth.

"R-Roderich!" Tears escaped and ran down her cheeks, and she nodded furiously.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" he smiled and got to his feet. She stared through teary eyes, smiling and sobbing as he slipped the diamond ring onto her finger. Then he embraced her, and she was reduced to a sobbing, laughing mess.

"I love you so much," she wailed, burying her face in his chest.

"Then why are you crying?" he teased, rubbing her back with his thumb slowly.

"I don't know!" she replied, and he laughed softly.

"You need to find a dress," he said softly, "and I'll find another house for us, and-"

"Stop," she pleaded faintly. He fell silent, worried.

"You're going to make me cry harder," she laughed, inhaling his scent, "With these big plans of yours." He smiled and led them to the piano bench so they could sit. She leaned against him, falling entirely limp.

"You always make me cry," she grumbled.

"I can't help it," he replied, stroking her hair, "I don't try to."

"I think you do," was her reply. He only shook his head and smiled. Was there ever a happier man? He wondered. No. No one else had won the heart of Elizabeta Herdervary. Soon to be Elizabeta Edelstein.

He settled with her in his arms, and they sat like that for hours, happy just to spend precious time together, time they had lost the last year.


	7. Chapter 6

September 25, 1799

Mrs. Edelstein brought me to buy my wedding dress. There were two other women in there, and they helped me choose a really beautiful gown. I worried about the price, but neither Edelstein cared. They cared for my happiness over their wallets! Can you believe it? People surprise me so often…

Roderich spends as much time at my side as he possibly can, and it's adorable when he pouts because I need to do something alone. I think he is trying to make up for the time he spent away at college, but what he doesn't realize is that I already forgave him! He's so silly sometimes!

Happily,

Elizabeta

* * *

Roderich insisted on bringing his green-eyed girl out for lunch that afternoon, and in mock-bitterness, Elizabeta agreed. Mrs. Edelstein had dressed her in a green sundress and wide-brimmed hat and sent her on her way.

"Your mother spends more time picking out my outfits than anything!" the girl groaned, pulling at the skirts irritably.

"She cares about how you look," he laughed, and he disentangled her hand from her dress to capture it with his. She looked down and smiled softly.

"You hopeless romantic," she teased.

"Only because of you," he replied, and she blushed. They were in the center of Vienna, walking down streets and taking in the familiar view. He was hounding her about the wedding dress playfully, but she refused.

"Why?"

"Because in my tribe, it was considered bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the wedding."

"But we're Austrian now."

"Not me!" she declared, closing her eyes and turning her nose up arrogantly, "I'm still a nomad in my opinion." Without knowing, she bumped into another individual, and they both stumbled.

"Oh, I'm sorr-" she whipped around to apologize, but stopped. The man brushed his jacket off nonchalantly.

"It's no problem, ma'am-" his eyes widened a fraction. Crimson eyes.

"Gilbert? Gilbert Weillschmidt?" she stood up straighter, not losing eye contact. "Is that you?"

"Lize," he said, and he broke out in a grin. "It's been ages!" Roderich looked between them in confusion, and the brunette woman released his hand to throw her arms around her old friend.

"I thought I'd never see you again!" she cried out, laughing. He returned the embrace, shaking his head.

"It's been, what, nine years?" they parted, and he looked over her quickly. "You've grown up."

"Well, yeah, so haven't you," she laughed, "You're finally a man!" "And you're not," he replied, chuckling. She blushed.

"Yeah, figured that out…" He looked over toward Roderich sidelong.

"Who's the stiff you're with?" he said carelessly, "Gave up on being a nomad?"

"Excuse me?" Roderich said coldly.

"He's my fiancé, thank-you-very-much!" Elizabeta said irritably. The silver-haired man was stunned.

"W-what? You're getting married?" he ran a hand through his hair in shock. "You gotta be barely eighteen!"

"Jeez, you haven't changed a bit!" she said, and laughed. Her anger melted away like chocolate. "What have _you_ been up to?"

"I'm in the Prussian army now," he replied, "I'm spending a bit of down time in Vienna before I ship out." The girl was surprised.

"You joined?"

"You think I was put in training back then for nothing?" he replied easily. He shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his pants.

"Good point… Do you wanna get a drink or something?" she blurted out. He smirked; had he ever worn just a smile?

"Sure. Hell, I'll buy." he laughed. Elizabeta looked back at her fiancé worriedly.

"Do you mind?" she asked softly. He shook his head, smiling tightly.

"Have fun, darling," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek, "Be home before dark." She beamed.

"Thank you, Roderich!" she kissed him briefly and turned back to the crimson-eyed man. The man's expression was unreadable, but he offered a smirk similar to the one Roderich had worn moments before.

"I've only been here for a day or so," he said, "So I don't know where anything is." He took her by the hand and led her along. Roderich scowled. _This might become a problem._

Elizabeta followed the silver-haired man for a while.

"I thought you didn't know where you were going!" she laughed. He stopped.

"I'll get somewhere eventually!" he replied, turning. She smiled warmly, and he scowled.

"What are you smilin' about?"

"You. You really haven't changed, have you Gil." He turned away, his cheeks tinted the faintest shade of red.

"You haven't either," he finally said, and he released her hand. "Under the makeup and dress, you're still Lize."

"They call me Elizabeta now," she teased.

"…When did you realize you weren't a boy?" he asked, coloring some more. She laughed.

"Puberty." She took his wrist, making him start. "C'mon, I know a good pub nearby." She pulled him along, and he followed willingly.

_Is this really the same girl I played with back when we were kids_? He wondered, _she's so grown up… too bad I'm too late for her… what am I saying? I barely know her anymore_!

"Gil, you're awfully quiet. You thinkin' for once, or did you just learn to shut your yap when you got older?" she teased, turning back. He looked into her face, briefly admiring her features before answering.

"Nope. You're still Lize," he replied. She flushed.

"You jerk!"

"_I'm_ the jerk?" he replied, smirking, "You're the one who insulted me twice in one breath!" he shook his head. "It makes sense though. You're overwhelmed by how much awesome is barraging you at once. You're not used to it, I understand."

"You conceited bully!"

"Hey, don't be mad at me," he laughed, and she turned around sharply.

"C'mon. People won't ask you questions if you're with me. I have a bit of standing here."

"What do you mean?" he asked, following her lead.

"I'm engaged to the son of a prominent family!" she laughed, "I've important status in Vienna! Plus I'm a well-known socialite."

"Jeez, I take that back. Who are you, again?" She laughed, glancing back.

"I'm still Lize," she replied, "I'll tell you the story when we sit." He nodded.

"Alright." People greeted her as they trotted though the streets, and she replied amiably, smiling like a princess or a duchess. He was surprised. She was nobody back in the north.

"Here!" they entered the pub and she found them two seats at the bar. "So tell me about you. What's happened in the nine years you disappeared?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." He held up his hands, "you first." She sighed dramatically.

"Fiiiiine." She called the bartender over and ordered herself a glass of water. Gilbert cut in and asked for a stein of beer, and when they got their drinks, she took a sip and turned to him.

"Where do you want me to begin?"

"How about after you moved," he replied. She nodded and took a sip of water.

"Well, we moved south and west… and about a hundred different places after. I grew up, figured out I was a girl, and we moved to a city west of here. Then…" she looked pensive. "My parents died from a virus that was spreading throughout Austria."

"I… I'm sorry," he said softly, looking into the amber liquid.

"It's alright- It was four years ago, and I've accepted it," she said softly, offering a smile, "But two years after, I was employed by the Edelstein family."

"Was that stiff one of 'em?"

"He's got a name," she snapped, "and yes. Roderich Edelstein was the son of the couple that gave me a job. I worked as a maid for about a year before… well, before Roderich admitted he had feelings for me. There was a few other minor things, and voila! I'm the girl you see now." She laughed sheepishly. "It wasn't really all that exciting, was it?"

"Wait, what?" the man took a gulp from his stein. "That doesn't even make any sense. How did a rich snot fall for a maid? That's so absurd!" He laughed. "What'd you offer him in return?" the girl was flushed with anger.

"You're an ass!" The man fell silent upon realizing her rage.

"…Sorry, that was uncalled for," he replied quietly. Elizabeta turned to her water.

"It just happened, okay?" she replied stonily.

"Look, I didn't mean it like that," he said, touching her shoulder, "I'm sorry. It's not exactly like your story happens a lot." He stared into his beer thoughtfully. "He must have been enamored of you… after all, you've gotten pretty eye-catching." His reflection in the liquid was brooding.

"Did you… just say I was pretty?" she asked, turning. He shrugged.

"Yeah, I did," he replied nonchalantly. When she began to laugh, he turned sharply.

"What?"

"You've gotten pretty soft," she said, smiling warmly, "But… thanks." She looked into her glass. "What about you? What happened after your grandpa took you away?" He closed his eyes and sighed.

"I went off and trained in the deep north until I was sixteen. Then I enlisted in the army. My grandpa died of old age when I turned seventeen, but I was old enough to take care of myself, so it wasn't a big deal." He looked up.

"Not much else. I came to visit Vienna before I left the country for a long time."

"That's a short story," she murmured, staring into her water. "But I'm sorry about your grandpa."

"He was old," the man said offhandedly. Elizabeta studied the man's face. He already looked so old from fatigue.

"…Do you have a place to stay?" she asked. He looked up, red eyes slightly wide with shock. Then he laughed softly.

"Your fiancé doesn't seem like he'd appreciate that," he replied, "But I do."

"I see," she said. She finished her water. "Roderich would be fine with it, I think."

_You _think, Gilbert laughed silently, _but you didn't see the look he gave me when you came with me. _

"Will I see you again?" she asked. "Or is this the end?" He shook his head, smirking.

"I remember saying that back when we were still kids," he said, "And you told me we were too good of friends not to." He looked up, and his eyes locked on hers. "Now I'm the one saying it. And I'm promising it. Before I leave Vienna, we're going to spend the time we missed together." Then he stared into the dregs of his almost empty stein. "Only if you want to, though."

"What do you mean? Do you think I wouldn't want to?" she asked softly, reaching out, "Why wouldn't I want to?" He shook his head. Her hand was retracted.

"Nothin'." He called over for another beer. "I think your fiancé wants you home before dark."

"He can suffer," she laughed softly, "I waited almost a year for him- he can wait a few hours." When Gilbert's second beer arrived, she studied it.

"What's beer like?" The silver-haired man was surprised.

"What? Never had it?" When she shook her head, he laughed. "Guess it ain't lady-like though. And I wouldn't dare ruin your image, Mrs. Edelstein."

"I'm not married yet!" she snapped, "Give me the beer, damnit!"

"Ooh, testy," he laughed, moving the heavy glass away when she snatched at it. "Where're your manners?"

"Just- gimme the drink!" she whined, "I wanna taste it!"

"I'm still not seeing the manners."

"Please?"

"Please what?"

"Please or I'll break your nose!"

"Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn't try that," he replied smoothly, "I may have sworn never to hurt a woman, but still…"

"Please, would you be so kind as to let me taste your beer," the girl growled through her teeth. Her green eyes flashed. Gilbert smiled sweetly (it looked more like a dark smirk) and slid the drink over toward her.

"Not too much," he warned, "No need to get drunk."

"I won't," she replied haughtily, and she wrapped both of her hands around the thick glass and lifted it to her lips. He watched, eyes shifting to take in every inch of her. She had grown into a beauty, all right. Her hair was so long and thick now, but she wore it back with a ribbon. He found his sweeping her frame, and silently he scolded himself and apologized to God. Not before he acknowledged how her figure had filled out in all the right places, however.

"Wow… that's terrible!" she said, exhaling loudly as she set the glass down. "You actually like that horrid stuff?"

"I guess your refined noble's taste buds can't appreciate a decent drink," he replied, taking the mug and bringing it to his lips. Elizabeta found her eyes wandering over his uniform, and she mentally slapped herself. _You're getting married in a few months! You can't be so indecent! _

"You just have terrible taste," she declared.

"Yeah, well, whatever." He shook his head and licked his lips. "I'm happy." Elizabeta sighed.

The clock chimed loudly, six times. The girl's eyes widened.

"Oh, no! Roderich is going to be so worried!"

"I thought you said he could wait?" Gilbert teased. She shot him an annoyed look, watered down by her worry.

"Oh, no… I need to get home before dinner…" she got up and began to dig through her purse.

"Here." He tossed some money down. She nodded and began to leave in a fluster. The man caught her arm easily. She turned, and he tilted his head slightly.

"How 'bout I walk you home? I'd look like an ass if I let you go alone."

"Would you?" she gripped his hand tightly, and he looked down.

"Yeah, but you can't hold my hand or nothin'. Your uppity loverboy might not be too happy with that." She released his hand and hurried out, leaving him to trail like a puppy.

"Ooh, he's going to be so mad," she muttered.

"Hey, I'll be there," the silver-haired man replied, "He'll be mad at me. Though he's prob'ly too much of a wimp to hit me." The girl stopped, and Gilbert barely had a second before her fist connected with his mouth. He stumbled back, and she looked at her bloodied knuckles complacently.

"Stop insulting my fiancé," she said dangerously, not looking up from the crimson liquid on her knuckles. Gilbert took his hand away from his mouth and tasted blood. But it wasn't just his.

He spat.

"Nice hit," he commented, wiping his mouth on his wrist, "But I won't. Sorry, I don't like aristocrats."

"Then why did you even talk to me?" she asked, dropping her hand. He shrugged and took her wrist. She gasped when he wiped the blood off on his dark coat, leaving a murky smear.

"You still look feral to me," he replied, "There was an expression many of the recruits I knew used. 'You can take a man out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the man.' You still look like a nomad. You can't hide it, no matter how much plaster you put on your face.

"I don't know why you're trying to act like these snobs," he continued, looking around. They began to walk. "You're better than that, Elizabeta."

"…I'm doing it for the man I love," she said boldly. He shook his head.

"So you say."

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him.

"Nothing," he said dully. She wouldn't accept that.

"No, tell me!" she insisted. He sighed.

"How do you know you really love him?" he asked, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "You're still young, and you haven't known him that long." Instead of getting mad like he thought she would, she merely laughed.

"When I was nine, I loved you too," she replied easily, "You just had some kind of quality. I loved being your friend." He turned to her. She continued.

"But it wasn't like how I feel about Roderich. You're right, I don't know. But I think I do. I really care about him, Gil." The sun was setting, encasing her in a golden glow. She was smiling.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

They reached the Edelstein mansion, and she turned.

"Thank you!" she said, curtseying playfully, "Can I see you tomorrow, as well?"

"Sure," he replied, "I'll be hangin' around the east side of town. Come find me."

"That's not very chivalrous of you," she teased, "I thought you were a knight."

"I'm not," he replied, turning away. His voice held a tinge of sadness. "I'm a trained dog." He stretched, stuck his hands in his pockets, and meandered away.

"See ya 'round."

Elizabeta watched as he left for a moment, before hurrying into the house.

"Elizabeta!" She turned from the window. Roderich stood with his arms folded, his mouth set in an elegant scowl.

"I asked you to be home before dark!"

"I am," she replied innocently, "the sun is setting now." He sighed and turned away. She walked to his side and touched his arm, but he didn't look at her.

"What was I to think?" he murmured.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You were away with some strange Prussian for hours!" he said heatedly, pulling away from her, "How was I to know that he wasn't having his way with you?"

"Roderich!" He looked toward his fiancé, who was irate.

"He was my _friend_!" she snapped, "I trust him! Why couldn't you? Do you have no faith in my judgment?" His anger dissipated and was replaced immediately with concern.

"Elizabeta, you know what I mean… It's not that I don't trust you, it's-"

"I'm hurt that you couldn't just have faith in my belief! Gilbert is an honorable man, Roderich! You didn't know anything about him; you just made a snap judgment about him!" She turned and stalked away. "I thought you were better than that."

"Elizabeta…" Roderich approached her and touched her shoulder. She jerked it away.

"Darling-"

"Darling, darling, darling!" she retorted, "I don't want to hear it. I'm going to my room." She stormed away, her dress fluttering as she spun on her heel. Roderich sighed.

"Damn it all…"

Elizabeta lay on her bed with a book in hand. How dare he! By doubting Gilbert, he had doubted her!

Angry tears formed in her eyes. It just wasn't fair. Why couldn't men just trust their women?

"Elizabeta…"

"Go away," she said softly, turning to face the wall. Roderich stood in the doorway, saddened, hopeful.

"Please, let me come in. Let me explain…"

"You can talk all you want," she said angrily. He walked in and sat beside her on the bed carefully. His hand came to rest on her side.

"Elizabeta, please understand… I worry. It's not something I'm proud of, but I can't help it. And to be honest," he said, adjusting his glasses with his free hand, "I would consider a man unstable if he didn't worry about a beauty like you." He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.

"I only worry because I love you, Elizabeta. Please forgive my thoughtlessness." She looked back at him.

"…I hate you when you get all dopey like this," she said, but it wasn't cruel or mean, "You always win when you get sappy." He smiled softly.

"I'm sorry." She rolled onto her back, and his hand rested on her stomach.

"Do you forgive me?" he asked.

"Only if you stay in here with me tonight," she replied.

"Aren't you worried my parents will find that indecent?"

"I never worry," she answered, stretching her arms over her head, "You worry enough for the both of us." He chuckled and shook his head, before smoothing his hair back.

"I believe that is a reasonable exchange," he said, admiring her face for a moment, "I'll change into some night clothes and return then?"

"Knock before you enter," Elizabeta said, "I'm going to change too." He nodded.

"Of course." With that, he was on his feet, exiting the room. He gave her one last lingering look before closing the door behind him and leaving. Elizabeta sighed and stood up. Her hair was slightly tangled, so she brushed it before undressing. Her nightgown was made a something thicker than silk, and far less translucent, so she felt no need to bother with a robe. She just curled up under the sheets in the dim light after she changed, drawing the satiny material to her throat and closing her eyes.

Is it bad that I always yield to Roderich? She wondered, I know, he is my fiancé, but I feel like I give in too easily… but more than that… do I give in out of pity? Gilbert's words came back to her.

_That doesn't even make any sense. How did a rich snot fall for a maid? That's so absurd…_

_How do you know you really love him?_

… _Haven't known him that long…_

She drew the sheets around her tighter. No, that was foolish. She really did care for him. It wasn't out of anything but love that she accepted. She was just tired, worn out from the day. Over-thinking and upset.

There was a knock, and she acknowledged it. Roderich entered. His hair was messy, but that single curl still stuck out wildly. She chuckled but he only shook his head and approached the bed.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked as he eased himself under the sheets. She snuggled up to his warm body and rested her head on his chest.

"Mm… I don't know. I asked Gilbert if he wanted to chat again, so I might visit him…" She waited to hear his reaction, but he merely nodded.

"I see." She didn't inquire. He was glad she didn't. An unspeakable ire had begun to form in his chest, a bitterness and loathing toward the Prussian soldier. Though he daren't say it aloud, he wasn't opposed to dropping his 'gentlemanly mannerisms' to persuade the other man to back down. After all, if he was trying to gain favor with a claimed woman, no one would oppose a little brawling.

"Mm… what are you going to do?" the girl asked sleepily, her eyelids drooping with sudden fatigue. Roderich smiled. "I don't know yet," he said softly, chuckling, "I think I'm to find a job, but I don't know if I want to search just yet."

"It's up to you," Elizabeta yawned, her energy fading. She moved closer to his warmth, and he put his arms around her and held her as she closed her eyes. "… gu'night…" He nodded and stroked her hair idly.

"Good night, darling," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead. Then he removed his glasses, leaving him utterly blind, set them on the nightstand, and closed his eyes so blissful slumber could take him.


	8. Chapter 7

December 1, 1799

Gilbert says he's leaving in April. I'm heartbroken, in a way. We were just reunited and he's already moving away.

I **know** Roderich doesn't like Gilbert now. Whenever I begin to talk about him, he frowns really tightly and doesn't talk, just nods. So I stopped talking about Gil around him. Same with Gil, only I can't talk about Roderich. He's worse than Roderich though! He swears and complains until I change the subject. It's so frustrating! Why can't they just get along? Is it because they didn't grow up the same way?

With love,

Elizabeta

"Hey, Lize." The girl turned around quickly, her dress dancing around her ankles.

"What're you doing around here, Gil?" she asked the man, approaching him. He was wearing a heavy trench coat over heavy military pants and thick boots. A thick woolen scarf of burgundy was wound around his throat, a shade darker than his eyes.

"Just wanted to talk to you," he replied nonchalantly, "I've been thinkin' a lot lately."

"You think?" she teased, drawing her coat around her tighter. Her breath made a pallid cloud in front of her face. He scowled.

"I'm being serious, Lize!"

She laughed happily. "I'm sorry, Gil. Continue, please." His frown deepened and he pulled his scarf tighter.

"I think… I need to settle down and get a wife and stuff," he said distantly, kicking the snow around, "After I get out of the service, I mean."

"Well, yeah," Elizabeta laughed good-naturedly, "You can't be a soldier forever, you know." He didn't reply, so the girl continued.

"Plus, with looks like yours, it'd be a crime not to pass those traits on." He looked up, and there was the slightest tinge of pink on his pallid cheeks. She chuckled.

"Your kids would be cute- I could be their aunt, and visit them all the time too! Well, if you wife allows it." He smiled tightly.

"I'll make sure to marry a nice, humble woman for you then," he laughed, but it sounded constricted.

"Make sure she's pretty too," she laughed, "So you have handsome children~!" He smiled softly.

"Alright. Because you think I have a crappy taste in women, obviously." She turned to him, her expression indignant.

"I know you! You like the red-light type!"

"They're beautiful!"

"They're offensive!"

"You can't speak; you're a woman!"

Elizabeta turned and folded her arms in annoyance.

"I take that back; your children would be monsters like you." He scowled.

"I hope you and that aristocratic snob don't have a kid; it would be more narcissistic than royalty. And ugly," he concluded. Elizabeta flushed crimson. She grabbed his forearm.

"Take that back!"

"I will never tell a lie," he said smugly

"Take it back! Our kids would be beautiful!"

"They would look like that snob," Gil murmured softly, and he turned back to her for a moment.

"I need to go." Without any explanation, he turned and began to walk away. Elizabeta reached out and caught his jacket, and he glanced back.

"I'm not done talking with you," she said slowly. His gaze fell to the snow before him, not meeting her eyes.

"I need to go, Elizabeta." He slipped out of her grasp and walked away, just as snow began to fall on Vienna.


	9. Chapter 8

January 3, 1800

It's finally the 1800s, but it feels no different than the 1700s. I guess I should have expected as much, though. It's just time.

The wedding is going to be April, when it's finally warm enough and not slippery with snow. I'm surprised he wanted to wait so long, hahaha!

Gilbert hasn't seemed himself lately. I ask why, and he avoids the question. I'm worried about him- but I can't tell Roderich about it or he gets upset. Come to think of it… he's been more irritated with Gilbert lately. I wonder why…

With confusion, Elizabeta

* * *

Elizabeta had stayed home today, instead of going into the snow-slicked streets. She played piano for hours, tried the harp, thought it didn't sound right, finished the laundry against Mrs. Edelstein's wishes, did the dishes against Mrs. Edelstein's wishes, and swept the house. Roderich was working now; he was a pianist at a tavern and earned fair wage by playing for the public. It left Elizabeta with much spare time and nothing to do. She ended up teaching herself more songs on the piano and tried to learn other instruments. But soon, even that lost its fun.

She was struck with an idea. Quickly, she approached Mr. Edelstein about it.

"Mr. Edelstein?"

"Yes, Elizabeta?" he asked. He was reclined in his chair in the study, holding a novel in one hand and his pipe in the other.

"Can you teach me to speak English?" she asked bluntly. He started a bit at that.

"English?"

"Yes, sir," she said, bowing her head. "I… well, you know. I was a nomad until I worked for you and your wife, sir, and I wasn't educated. And I… need something to do… while Roderich is working and I'm stuck at home…" The man studied her downcast face for a moment.

"… Are you sure you want to?" he asked. The girl looked up in surprise.

"Oh, yes, sir! Very much so!"

The man set his pipe down and lowered his book, then motioned for her to come toward him. She did, and he sat her on his lap like a daughter.

"First you'll need to learn their alphabet. It might take a while to learn that, and it'll be frustrating."

"I don't mind!" Elizabeta said, her eyes wide. She stared at the man imploringly.

The man smiled.

"Your determination is inspiring, Elizabeta," he chuckled, "Alright. Here, I'll teach you the first handful of letters; more, if you can handle it." He felt around for a piece of parchment.

"Pardon me, Elizabeta dear." She stood up and he set the milky parchment on his lap, and drew the ink well and pen near. She sat on his knee again, and he began to write. He wrote five letters, then turned to Elizabeta.

"I'll tell you what the letter is, then I want you to rewrite them until you get it right." Elizabeta nodded, and he began to teach her.


	10. Chapter 9

February 3, 1800

Mr. Edelstein is astounded at how fast I'm learning. He's already teaching me some words and how to form sentences. I learned how to say 'My name is Elizabeta.' He's so proud of me!

He told Roderich, and Roderich was so proud too! Tomorrow, I'm going to see Gilbert, and I'm going to tell him too! I hope he's just as happy as me!

Joyously,

Elizabeta

* * *

Elizabeta pulled her coat on and fastened the belt. She could say a bunch of articles of clothing in English now, and said each one she knew as she dressed. Mr. Edelstein listened from the door of his study, and he smiled approvingly as she got them correct.

"You're doing exceptionally well, Elizabeta," he mused. The girl looked up, her eyes warm and exultant.

"Thank you, Mr. Edelstein! I couldn't do it without you as my teacher, though," she replied. He chuckled.

"You're a smart girl, Elizabeta. I think you would have learned sooner or later without my aid."

"No, no, no!" she said, looking up in shock from her bootlaces. "I'm not that bright at all, sir. It's all because you make English seem kinda like German. It looks weird until you explain a little." Then she finished lacing up her boots and stood up. She looked like a little doll; her curls were pulled back with a silver clip, but half of them cascaded from her cap. She had a green scarf wound around her throat that hung down her back. Then she wore a slate colored jacket lined with a multitude of buttons and a thick pair of matching pants. Her boots were tall and of a military grade, with laces up to her shins.

"Are you sure you want to go out?" Mr. Edelstein asked, glancing outside. Snow had just begun to fall, coating the city in a layer of white. She nodded, beaming.

"Yeah. I was going to meet Gilbert today for some warm whiskey," she said. She saw the concern in his face and put her hands up. "I was only going to have a little, sir. It's only because I can rarely meet him when liquor or business aren't involved."

"I wasn't worried about that…" he said quietly, but she didn't seem to hear.

"I'll be home before sunset!" she said with a bright smile, and she opened the front door. A blast of icy air entered the house, and Mr. Edelstein shivered before Elizabeta waved and exited, slamming the door. Mr. Edelstein sighed.

"Elizabeta…"

The girl hurried toward the tavern, holding her cap down with one hand to defend it from the biting wind. The storm was beginning to pick up, she noticed, the wind getting harder and the snow falling faster. She drew the scarf over her raw nose and opened the pub door. Heat rushed out and greeted her, and she took its invitation gratefully.

The door closed heavily behind her, and she began to search for her friend. It only took a few minutes, because she spotted him beside the fireplace, drinking greedily from a large stein. She removed her hat and trotted over. He glanced up, his lips still pressed over the thick glass, and nodded before setting the glass down.

"You came in this weather?" he asked as she sat down. She nodded and began to unbutton her jacket.

"Yeah. I don't think Mr. Edelstein wanted me to, though."

"I don't blame him," he said shortly, and he hailed a waiter, demanding another drink. Elizabeta laughed when he didn't ask her for one, and she asked the man herself. The man started a little, stared, then nodded and hurried off. Gilbert looked over, and a smirk was entertaining itself on his lips.

"You've gotten bolder."

"Well, you didn't order for me, you _schweine_," she retorted good-naturedly. He chuckled as she slipped her coat off. Her fingers were red and swollen from the cold, and Gilbert glanced down.

"Your hands…" She looked down too.

"Oh? They're just cold," she laughed, "They'll be okay in an hour or so." He shook his head.

"You make me feel like _die_ _arschlock_," he murmured and reached across the table. She gasped softly as his warm hands, hard and calloused from service, closed around hers. They were so much larger, and covered her frigid ones easily. Elizabeta looked up to meet his gaze. His eyes were locked on her face, rapt but blasé.

"Are… are you drunk?" He was taken aback, and she felt his hands convulse as if seizing. He scowled; then he laughed and squeezed her slightly throbbing hands gently.

"Not yet," he chuckled, "I'm still sober." She looked away, feeling the beginnings of a blush.

"I think my hands are warm now."

"Don't act so embarrassed," the pale man said, chuckling, "It means nothing except I'm not cruel." He rubbed her knuckles gently. "This is the only kindness I'm gonna show you ever again, and only 'cause I didn't get you a present for Christmas." She shook her head.

"I didn't get you one either."

"But I'm a gentleman."

She snorted, but he only shook his head and warmed her hands. The redness faded slowly, and he elevated her hand with one to study it before slowly releasing it.

"There." The hot alcohol arrived, and she picked it up quickly. He laughed and in one smooth motion, he drew the glass up and took a long draught. Then he let it hit the table with a bang and wiped his mouth sloppily on his sleeve.

"So what did you want to talk about?" he asked, and she sipped her drink. She still didn't like the taste of liquor, but drank it to warm herself.

"Nothing in particular. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing in particular," he repeated mockingly. She huffed.

"You're so mean."

They kept chatting for a while, and she felt pleasantly drowsy from the liquor. But Gilbert was unfazed. Maybe it was because he had such an incredible tolerance for alcohol. Maybe it was because he was drinking it slowly.

Then the door opened, and a gust of icy wind chilled the pub throughout. A man, covered from cap to bootlace in white snow, stumbled in.

"Oi! It's'a blizzard out there!" he called out, "There ain't no way any a' ya can leave!" Everyone looked at him, then clamored to the windows. The man was right; it was impossible to see through the thick sheets of snow blowing past the window. Elizabeta's heart stopped. She couldn't get home; everyone would worry about her…

"Barkeep, another please?" she looked up, and Gilbert held aloft his newly emptied stein. "If I'm gonna be stuck anywhere, a bar is the best place." The man carried him another glass, looking stupefied, and Gilbert drained the whole thing within seconds.

"I'll pay extra if you can find me a bigger mug." The man nodded and disappeared into the cellar. Elizabeta stared at him.

"What?" he asked simply. She scowled.

"We're trapped, and you're drinking?"

"What else can we do?" he replied easily, accepting a larger mug filled to the brim. "I might as well enjoy myself." He took a long draught, but Elizabeta grabbed his wrist and he stopped. He looked at her in surprise.

"You're not getting drunk around me," she said slowly. He let out a soft bark of laughter.

"What, are you afraid?"

"No!" she lied, and looked away. He studied the sliver of face he could see, then set his drink down.

"Alright, I'll practice moderation." She looked back in shock.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said, stretching.

The fire was warm and many people crowded around it. The barkeep's wife brought the people potato au gratin and fresh bread and butter for a meal, free. Everyone thanked her and praised her great cooking, and she just blushed and waved the compliments away.

"It's only right," she said with a convivial smile, "That people have a hot meal for dinner, no matter where they are." Gilbert grinned, and he must have felt generous, because he bought everyone trapped in the tavern a drink of their choice. Elizabeta looked on him with awe at that moment, and he glowed with pride.

Blankets were passed out throughout the tavern, but people had to share. Elizabeta looked around and decided she only knew one person here.

"Uh… Gilbert?"

"Yeah?" he asked, running his tongue over the rim of his stein. She swallowed and banished all undesirable thoughts to the farthest reaches of her mind.

"Would you… mind sharing a blanket with me tonight?" she said, slowly turning a vivid crimson. He started, then studied her face; his eyes and her cheeks were identical in color.

"Sure," he said easily, "Better than sharing with a stranger, eh?" She nodded and mumbled something inaudibly. Gilbert chuckled.

"Wanna claim the spot near the fire first?" he offered. She looked up sharply.

"I'm not lying with you until I have to!" she snapped, than covered her mouth. "Oops, sorry…" She didn't see the flicker of pain in his eyes, nor the way his smile was too tight, too stiff.

"It's alright. I know; you have a fiancé." He laid their blanket out directly before the fire. "Here; we'll be warm, so we won't have to worry too much about the blanket. It'll be more like cushioning for us." She nodded. She was so embarrassed; she had just snapped at her best friend, and over what? Nothing. He returned to the table and drank down his beer to the dregs. The fire crackled and hissed, and the only sound was the dull hum of the other bar-goers.

"Barkeep?" Gilbert called over, and he held his empty stein aloft. Elizabeta stared at the table remorsefully. _How could I make up for such an error…_

"Elizabeta." She looked up, and Gilbert offered another tight smile.

"You don't need to feel bad. You're engaged to another man; I sounded far out of line. You had every right to chastise me. So, don't look sad, okay?" She stared in wonder, and he took his beer from the bartender and took a long draught.

He was furious at himself for being late. He was furious at himself for upsetting her. For missing his chance. For not being smooth enough. For thinking such sinful thoughts. For considering that he might have a chance with Elizabeta. For all that he was. The alcohol was making it more painfully aware, too, but he didn't dare stop.

Another hour passed, and people began to turn in. Elizabeta decided to go to bed, but Gilbert stayed up, drinking his booze and staring into the flickering flames. Long after she had fallen asleep, he finished his final mug. No one but a scarce few people was awake. He wiped his mouth and removed his military coat, hanging it on the back of his chair. Then he got up and sat down on the blanket. Elizabeta looked so serene like this. Her hair was tossed around her head, most of it loosened from its clip so she had a chestnut halo. She had curled in a semi-ball, and her fingers were curled and skyward near her face. Her lips were parted and pouting, and she grumbled something in her sleep and shifted slightly. Gilbert studied her undisturbed form quietly. He brushed a few strands of brunette from her face, accidentally brushing her cheek. That was the fatal mistake. His eyes locked on her lips, and before he realized it, he was leaning forward. He could feel her breath on his lips, soft and whiskey-scented, and he almost moved in the last inch. But something stopped him. He stared at her serene face, and suddenly, he pulled away.

"… _Gut nicht_," he murmured softly, touching her forehead gently, and he rolled over and tried to sleep.

He woke from restless sleep when something brushed his hip. He glanced over his shoulder in surprise. There, snuggled up to his back, was the very girl who had declared earlier that she was engaged. He chuckled; her face was resting against his back and she was pressed flush against his back. Slowly, despite the voice of reason in his head, he eased her arms off. Then he rolled over, and she snuggled against him again.

"Mm…" she mumbled. Gilbert didn't push her away this time. She buried her face in his chest and curled her arms around his trunk tightly. He smiled weakly and stroked her hair slowly while she slept.

If Roderich had seen what took place that night, he would have found Gilbert, and possibly even killed him. Neither man knew how much Elizabeta meant to the other, but both understood what obstacle stood in their way. Both knew what needed to be done. Yet though Gilbert was a soldier, did he have the internal malice to rip apart a happy couple? And did Roderich have the bravery to pull Elizabeta from her best friend?

Elizabeta woke alone, by cold sheets. The fire was still burning, but the flames had receded to little flickers of orange light. The girl sat up with a yawn and looked around groggily. The snow had stopped falling, and white light filtered into the pub through the window. Many people were folding up their blankets and thanking the owner before leaving through the front door. The man's wife was cooking a breakfast for everyone who asked, and there were a few people who were staying to eat.

A kind woman asked her if she had slept well, and she nodded and got up.

"Your friend left early this morning," the woman continued, "He said not to worry, and thanks for the night." Elizabeta flushed and turned away.

"Oh… t-thank you," she said, staring into the fire. _Thanks for the night? Oh, dear… what happened…!_

She offered to help the bartender's wife, and the woman thanked her profusely and gave her an apron to wear. For two hours, Elizabeta helped the woman cook and wash the dishes, and finally, at noon, the woman helped her home.

As soon as she walked through the door, she was assaulted with questions. Roderich took her by the hands and drew her to his chest, crushing her in a hug.

"Elizabeta…" She smiled and returned his touch carefully.

"I'm sorry- there was a storm, and-"

"Don't talk," he said weakly, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Mr. and Mrs. Edelstein hurried from the study.

"Elizabeta!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, sir," she said, and she felt herself tearing up. The woman bid her farewell, and Elizabeta thanked her.

"We thought you were lost in the storm," Mr. Edelstein said slowly.

"No, I stayed at the tavern," Elizabeta said, and the tears became almost unbearable. She sniffled softly.

"Elizabeta dear…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she cried out, gripping Roderich's shirt tightly, "I shouldn't have gone out! I was so imprudent!" Roderich smiled shakily and held her tighter.

"It's alright… darling…"

Elizabeta said nothing of sharing a bed with Gilbert that night, and she swore she would never would. After she calmed down, Roderich brought her to the music room and played piano with her for hours. He didn't pressure her to talk at all, and they sat in silence, secretly communicating with the ring of the keys under their fingers. It was beautiful interaction, rare interaction. It was a symbol of love.

But Elizabeta couldn't shed the feeling of partaking in such a sin. Her heart was heavy with darkness, with remorse. She couldn't help shedding a few tears as the day progressed, wanting to apologize but wanting to protect her friend from her fiancé's rage. That night, she slept alone, but she couldn't will herself to drift off. She lay awake the entire night, on her knees before her bed and praying that Roderich would never learn of her crime.


	11. Chapter 10

March 5, 1800

It's still cold, and I haven't seen Gilbert since the blizzard. I'm scared: truly scared. I've learned enough English to express my fears, too, but daren't speak them aloud. I merely hope everything settles down soon. I fear the stress is going to take me down.

Anxiously,

Elizabeta

* * *

March 30, 1800

Gilbert is leaving on April 25th. My wedding is three days later. I've realized something dreadful- I think I've feelings for Gilbert. Worse: I think he was right about Roderich. What if I really don't love him? What if I was just caught in the high of wealth? I'm so terribly afraid- I need to tell someone but have no one to talk to. I can't tell Gilbert- he would think me a fool. I can't tell Roderich- he would be heartbroken. I can't speak with either of his parents, and for obvious reasons. I wish I had a mother of my own; I need guidance. I need a conclusion. I need… I'm going to see if Catholicism has the answer today.

Please, if you are willing God,

Elizabeta

* * *

April 17, 1800

It's gotten very warm as of late. I'm going to the church again- I won't stop until Gilbert leaves or I find the answer.

Intent,

Elizabeta

* * *

Elizabeta tried her wedding dress on again while Roderich was away, and it didn't fit quite right anymore. Mr. and Mrs. Edelstein wore separate expression: one of amusement, one of acrimony.

"You lost weight," the man mused.

"I can't believe the dress doesn't fit!" the woman raged, "You haven't been eating, have you, girl!" Elizabeta raised her shoulders and arms dejectedly.

"I can't help losing the weight- I'm eating more than before!"

"Then you need to stop training like a man in the ancient Olympics!"

"I'm not!" Elizabeta said, fixing the dress's straps on her shoulders. They slipped down again, baring her pale shoulder.

"I need sun," she complained, "I look pallid!"

"I don't know what you're blathering about," the woman said curtly, "You looked terrible when you were brown-skinned. Like an indigent. Now if only you would put on some weight!" Elizabeta scowled but didn't speak.

"I guess we can send your dress to the tailor's," Mrs. Edelstein grumbled, turning. "Take it off, Mr. Edelstein will bring it now."

Elizabeta turned away from the two and the woman unbuttoned her dress. It fell heavily on the floor, fluffy like a pastry and just as pale. Elizabeta covered herself with her forearm and picked up her clothes. Then she pulled on her faded dress and turned around.

"I'm going to the church," she said, running her fingers through her hair quickly.

"The church?" both adults seemed surprised.

"Why?" the man asked.

"I need to ask God something," the girl replied, looking toward the window. "I need to know something."

"What is it?" Mrs. Edelstein asked impatiently. Elizabeta turned to her and scowled.

"It is none of your business, ma'am! It's between me and God!" she said heatedly. The woman recoiled slightly, but Mr. Edelstein picked up the assault, more gently than his wife.

"We're just worried for you, is all."

"I'll be fine," Elizabeta said, curtseying and beginning to leave. She stopped at the door and looked back. "I just need to ask a little question- I'll be home by sundown, okay?" When they nodded, she smiled and scurried away. She needed to ask God… was it a sin to love another man than the one you were betrothed to?

The church was utterly silent and the click of her heels reverberated throughout the vacant room. There was a large cross positioned on the altar, and she knelt before it.

"I… I've never done anything like this before," she began, faltering, "I… I don't know how to address you or anything-"

"Elizabeta?" She turned around quickly.

"Gil? What are you doing here?" He smiled tightly and offered a short wave before approaching the altar and kneeling as well.

"This has been my church since I arrived in Vienna," he said, bowing his head, "I come every afternoon if I can." He looked so serene, knelt before the cross, and she couldn't help but watch for a moment as he offered himself before God.

"… why are you here, Elizabeta?" he asked softly. She looked away, toward the cross, the colorful windows, anything to keep her gaze from the young soldier.

"I need to ask God something," she murmured. He nodded.

"I understand." He didn't pressure her to speak of it and remained unmoving as the green-eyed girl turned to the altar. She bowed her head.

_God… Can you help me? I'm scared. I'm afraid… for my fiancé, for my friend… Please, tell me what to do… Help me…_ She mouthed the words, clasping her hands tighter and tighter until it hurt and she looked up, inhaling sharply. Gilbert rose to his feet.

"Elizabeta, would you come with me after you've finished here?" he asked softly. His expression was unreadable, and Elizabeta looked up with worry.

"Yes- what's wrong, Gil? You don't seem yourself today…" He smiled tightly. His boots clicked on the glossy floors and the sound echoed throughout the room, getting louder and louder.

"I'm not- at least, I'm not how I was. I'm trying to grow up now, to make up for my irresponsibility before. I… nevermind." He turned back to Elizabeta, and his mouth moved wordlessly. Then he chuckled.

"Has God answered your questions yet?" he asked, approaching her. She shook her head, and he nodded slightly. "Then He wants you to find the answer yourself, I bet."

"But I tried that!" she said exasperatedly, getting up from her knees, "I really need His help!"

"Trust in Him. He knows you can solve this on your own," Gil said, smiling, "Oh, you seem upset now. I'm sorry, Liza." Elizabeta's stared at him.

"You…?"

"Yes?"

"You called me Liza…" she looked up. "You haven't called me that since we met again..." He smirked teasingly.

"What, you'd rather I be a stiff, Elizabeta?" he emphasized her name, and she flushed.

"No! I just was making an observation!"

"Don't shout in a church, Mrs. Edelstein," he continued, "It's rude." She flushed more violently.

"You know I'm not married yet," she whispered fiercely. He chuckled and turned away.

"_Do_ I know?" she scowled and attacked.

It was like when they were kids again. He cried out and fell, with Elizabeta digging her knees into his sides lest she fall off; the sound he made when he hit the floor bounced off the lofty ceiling. He tried to get up, but she clung to him and he gave up.

"What was that? Cheap shot," he grumbled. She chuckled.

"Finally beat you," she crowed, "Only took me ten years." He chuckled and rolled over, so she was sitting on his abdomen.

"Can't believe it's been ten years," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. She grinned.

"Yes, I know. It's surprising, hunh? I mean… we're adults now…" she said, and her voice trailed off. Gilbert saw that distant look in her eyes, and he smiled.

"Get off'a me, Lize." She flushed and moved, and he sat up.

"Let's go," he urged, "Enjoy our youth, I mean. Let's go to the park. It's nice an' warm today, don't you think?" She nodded, and he got to his feet and offered his hand.

"Thought you were a man," he laughed when she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

"I am," she declared. Then she looked down at herself. "Save for the dress…" He laughed again and let her go, turning.

"C'mon, let's get going. I'll buy lunch if you want." She nodded, and they departed the church, left from underneath the knowing eyes of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

The park was nearly empty save for a few families, and Elizabeta insisted that they eat their lunch under a large budding oak.

"We forgot something to sit on," Elizabeta realized, looking at the grass. The silver-haired Prussian chuckled. In a split second, he was spreading his jacket on the grass. Then he rolled up his sleeves and leaned against the tree. "No we didn't," he said finally. She looked at him in shock, then admiration.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know." She smiled and sat down. Then she looked up. Gil was intent on eating his lunch, and didn't notice as the girl studied him. He was nothing like Roderich. He was rugged and worn, with a crudeness and a strength that living impoverished gave you. He had the strong arms and legs of a penniless, hardworking man, and the rough-hewn features. He was scarred, she noticed, and hardened from the knight's training.

"Stop staring at me," he said, taking another bite of his sandwich. Elizabeta was at a loss- how could he see her?

"I'm not staring at you," she said. He glanced up from his sandwich in mild surprise. Then he smirked.

"I see. I'm sorry- you're fiancé wouldn't be too happy."

"Hunh?"

"I just can't help being so handsome, ya know?" he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, "I can understand why you're so captivated by me." The girl understood suddenly, and she scowled.

"Vain lecher!" He chuckled.

"You're the one who was staring," he replied easily. She flushed crimson.

"Well… uh… you know… Ah! Curse you!" she turned back to her sandwich. Her flush was from being found out; her stammering was because she couldn't deny that yes, Gilbert Weillschmidt was completely, unreasonably handsome.

Gilbert glanced at her over the slice of bread. Was she… No, she couldn't.

She was engaged- due to be married in 8 days… 8 days…

"Damn it all," he murmured, closing his eyes. I've lost…

"What?" Elizabeta looked up, and the man started.

"Nothing," he replied hastily, and he finished his sandwich, "Just remembering- when's your wedding again?"

"The 28th," she said happily, "But Mrs. Edelstein is mad because I lost weight. Again."

"Hey, if you're with child…" he began, and laughed when she became furious and searched for something to throw at him. "I'm only joking, Lize!" She folded her arms.

"I don't think that's all that funny," she said, pouting. He shook his head and crouched.

"Eventually, it'll happen, am I right? When we were kids, you said you wanted a son to take after you… has that changed?" She looked up with surprise.

"You remember that?"

"I remember everything from when we were young," he admitted, looking toward some children playing ball in the field, "When you left, I said I needed to find you again- I needed to see my best friend again, so I swore to never forget…" He blushed- actually _blushed_- and Elizabeta stared at him in surprise.

"… Now I sound like a girl," he said, chuckling, yet it was a mournful sound. He looked dejected now; outwardly unhappy. The dams broke; his emotion flooded to his face, and it was the saddest expression Elizabeta had ever seen.

"Gil…" She got to her feet, "I'm gonna climb that tree." He looked up in shock.

"What- No, you'll fall, Liza." She shook her head.

"I'm not gonna fall," she promised, and her hands found purchase on the rough bark. Gilbert stood back, watching her worriedly as she remembered how to climb.

"Don't climb too far-"

"What are you, scared?" she teased. It was a perfect echo of the past. She grabbed a branch and found another to stand on, looking down at the man.

He was honest.

"Yes!" The branch cracked as she tried to hoist herself higher, and she cried out as she began to fall.

Gilbert rushed forward, arms outstretched, and she landed in his grasp with a gasp. But he did not stumble. He was wide-eyed, terrified, holding the brown-haired girl in his arms. Afraid she would break. Afraid she would be hurt.

"Gilbert… you… you saved me again…" she said, looking at him in shock. His heart hammered in his chest, and he rested his back against the tree heavily to compose himself.

"I…" he looked at the girl in his arms, so fragile and feminine, and he closed his eyes. His pulse wouldn't slow.

"I told you not to climb the tree for a reason," he said hoarsely, "I… Elizabeta, really…" She saw the waning terror writ on his brow and felt the throb of his anxious heart.

"I… I know, Gil, I-"

"I've never been so scared in my life," he continued, as if she had never spoken, "If I hadn't caught you, you would have broken your neck or your back-"

"Gilbert…" she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, trembling. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" He smelled of oak and shaving cream, of work and washing and life. He let himself slide down the trunk until he was seated with the green-eyed girl in the crook of his thighs and abdomen.

"It's alright…" he said faintly, feeling her breath on his throat. Oh, Lord, this couldn't be happening…

"Gil…" she leaned away from his neck, "I think… I've fallen for you…" He was stunned.

"But… what about your fiancé…?" he asked faintly. She looked away.

"I… I don't know, Gil…" He stared at her, wide-eyed. His heart had continued its steady drumming.

He took her cheeks gently between his hands and turned her toward him.

"Gil…?" he leaned up and pressed his lips to hers tenderly, and she made a soft noise, before curling her arms around his neck. But he pulled away, shocked and ashamed.

"I… I can't… you already have someone, Elizabeta…" She looked away, burning tears of humiliation in her eyes.

"I know," she whispered, "I… I don't know if I love him anymore, Gilbert…" He looked up.

"What do you…" She wiped her eyes on her wrists.

"I can't help it, Gilbert… I… I just don't feel the same anymore…" the tears came back more passionately and trickled down her cheeks. He reached up and brushed away her tears.

"Elizabeta…" he kissed her cheek gently and stretched his legs out so she could sit more comfortably on him, "I…" he held her closer. "I feel the same… but it's immoral… you'd have to…" he stopped, and she exhaled painfully.

"I know… I'd need to break off my engagement with Roderich…" she began to cry harder.

"Why can't this be easier?" she sobbed. Gilbert nodded faintly and rested his hands on the ribbon of her dress. The sun was still high in the sky, but there was a cool wind blowing over the field.

"I know… what you mean, Elizabeta…"


	12. Final Chapter

A/N: The final stretch... I was rather lazy in putting author's notes in because I needed to cram this posting in a little bit of time. But 13 chapters is an accomplishment... so I felt the last one should be acknowledged. :P

* * *

April 21, 1800

Four days until Gilbert leaves. Seven until my wedding. After the park incident, I haven't left the house. Roderich noticed I was upset, but when I saw him, I burst into tears. I feel indelibly guilty for what happened, and I need to tell him-

But I'm afraid. I feel indecent, immoral… and I don't want him to hurt Gil. I need to decide… I need to choose to go with Gilbert, or I need to confess to Roderich and hope for mercy for both me and my best friend.

Remorseful and suffering,

Elizabeta

* * *

"Elizabeta…?" there was a knock at her bedroom door, and she looked up from her paper. The ink from her pen dripped onto the pale white surface. "May I come in?"

"Yes," she called out, setting the quill down in the inkwell. Roderich opened the door carefully and entered, shutting it behind him.

"May I sit?" he asked softly. He looked concerned, and the girl nodded and set her parchment aside.

"I was just practicing my English," she explained, "I've learned the past tense- but it's harder than German."

"I would expect as much," he said, chuckling. She felt that familiar pain in her chest, and she looked away.

"… What did you want to talk about, Roderich?" she asked softly. He looked down.

"I'm worried about you, Elizabeta…" he said softly, and his gaze returned to her face, with eyes full of concern.

"Don't… look at me like that," she said softly, biting her lower lip.

"Why?"

"I don't deserve it…" He moved closer to her and touched her shoulder, but she flinched and balled her fists.

"I… I did something very bad…" she whispered. He rested his pianist hand on her back and rubbed it gently.

"It can't be too bad," he assured her soothingly. She nodded slowly and drew her legs up under her.

"It is… I'm so sorry, Roderich…"

"Don't apologize," he murmured, drawing her to his chest, "I'm sure it's not all that bad."

"But it is," she said, feeling hot tears forming in her eyes, "I… I don't deserve forgiveness for it."

"Tell me, Elizabeta… I'm sure you're just overreacting, darling…" She looked up, and the tears fell like rain.

"I kissed Gilbert in the park, Roderich. I… I b-betrayed you!" She looked away, sniffling. "I don't deserve you… and now I've been disloyal…" Roderich was silent, stone-faced. All of the rage he had been harboring since he had met the Prussian was beginning to manifest and surface.

"Roderich… please, if you're mad, tell me! Don't make me endure the silence, please…" she was sobbing now, staring up at the face of her irate fiancé.

"I'm not angry with you…" he said slowly, and her eyes widened. She had never seen such indescribable rage on his face, and it frightened her. "Or rather… I'm upset, but not so much at you…" He released her and rose. "But if Gilbert is in town, he'd best run now." Then he turned, and his eyes were dark with hatred. "You probably want to find your paramour and warn him, correct? I can see that you care for him more anyway." The green-eyed girl gasped and covered her mouth.

"No! Roderich-!"

"I do not wish to speak to you at the moment," he spat, scowling. His lip curled with anger, and Elizabeta flinched. He stormed out, and she sank to her knees.

"Oh, God… what have I done…?" her body was wracked with violent sobs, but she forced herself up. I need… to warn Gilbert… She searched for shoes, but all of hers were in the parlor, and she did not want to face Roderich again.

"Damnit," she cursed, and she tried to leave her room, but the door was locked.

"Damnit! Damnit, damnit, damnit!" She searched for exit, but there was none. Save for the large windows…

She ripped the metal rod in her closet from the wall, making all of her dresses fall to the floor in a messy pile. The glass was thick, but with one well aimed stab, she shattered one pane. The glass rained down like water, and when she tried to climb through the window, she sliced open the bottom of her feet and dribbled blood on the hardwood and wall.

But she was determined. Despite the violent pain, she sprinted through Vienna, shouting for Gilbert. Her tears had since stopped, but the dried tracks were evident.

"Gilbert! Gilbert!" People stared at her in shock and awe as she raced down each street, searching each tavern and eatery in the city. Soon, her legs could barely carry her and she felt ill from the blood loss, but she didn't stop. She kept calling for him, fearing the worst.

She found him at the park, beneath the oak. He was wearing his uniform despite the warm weather. He whittled a large stick with a thick blade and whistled _Prussenlied_.

"Gilbert… Gil…" she collapsed at his feet, and he got up in shock.

"Elizabeta, what happened! Why are you… Your feet… why are you out like this?" he helped her up, but she pushed him away.

"I'm… fine," she said, spitting, "But you… need… get out of… Vienna…!" she looked up through red-rimmed eyes. "Roderich's going to kill you, Gilbert!" He looked shocked.

"What? Why?"

"I… I told him about what happened," she said, and the tears began to fall, "He's furious, Gilbert- he's looking for you now! Please, you need to get out and live!" he studied her face.

"Elizabeta…" he took her in his arms.

"I will not run from my punishment," he whispered, burying his face in her hair, "This is retribution. I need to take this as a knight would."

"No… no, don't…!" she looked at him pleadingly. "I don't want to lose you, Gilbert!" He smiled sadly.

"Tell me you mean it."

"I do! Gilbert, I don't want you to die!" He released her and turned.

"Would you sacrifice Roderich for me, Elizabeta?"

"What are you…?" "We can't both live through this," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "You must choose. Me. Or your fiancé." Elizabeta shook her head.

"No, it can't be like that-"

"It is!" he snapped, turning. He looked menacing now. "It can't be both of us, Elizabeta, and you know better than that! This isn't a fairytale- this is life! This is about honor!" He drew his sword. "Who do you love more, Elizabeta! Tell me- I'm not afraid to die, nor am I afraid to kill." He glanced down at the steel of his blade. "It's chivalry- the code of the knight."

"I don't want you to die!" she cried out. He looked at her with hard garnet eyes.

"Then will you condemn Roderich?" The girl shook her head passionately.

"No! I love him-"

"Then I die!" he said harshly.

"No!" she stepped forward but he backed up a step. "I don't want to lose either of you!"

"Then we live in disgrace," he hissed, baring his teeth in a scowl, "Which neither of us choose. Either you choose now- Or our battle will decide." He glanced up.

"I c-can't!" she wailed, "I can't condemn either of you to death!"

"Then we fight," Gilbert said softly, and he pushed her toward the tree gently. "Roderich Edelstein." Elizabeta's eyes widened and she turned. Roderich stood a few meters away, his eyes hard as amethyst.

"Gilbert Weillschmidt," the man said, approaching slowly. In his hand, he clutched a wicked sword. He looked toward the girl.

"Elizabeta…" his gaze softened for a moment. "You haven't the faintest idea of how hard it was to compete for your attention- and then you admit this… you broke my heart. But I know it wasn't your fault- the fault is his, this lush you call friend!" he turned back to Gilbert and narrowed his eyes.

"What sort of man tries to take a claimed woman, hm? A lecher? A dishonorable thief?"

"She chose me," Gilbert snarled, "She isn't an aristocrat like you- you're just another pallid stiff that restrained her! I know her better than you hope to, because I didn't live a plush life like you- I lived just as she did!"

"Silence!" Roderich shouted, his eyes burning. They practically glowed with his ire. "Just because you claim to know her doesn't give you the right to take her! I care for her: her body, mind, and soul! What do you wish? To be a lascivious fiend and leave her to fend for herself while you gallivant across the continent?"

"I love her just as you do!" Gilbert snapped, "You're just saying these things because you're afraid to admit that you couldn't give her what she wanted- freedoms! I came, and I offer a life similar to what she once lived, and you grow angry because you can't compete!"

"I was there for her when she needed me!" Roderich replied heatedly, "Where were you when she needed someone to care for her, when she needed a roof over her head and a job so she could eat? Where were you when she needed help? You were gone!" Gilbert struck first, swinging his blade expertly. The flash of silver cut the air but Roderich parried and countered. It was a beautiful, dangerous dance. Elizabeta watched in horror, unable to speak or move as they dueled, terrified to death of who would lose… she balled her hands into fists and squeezed her eyes shut, and tears coursed down her cheeks.

"_**Stop**_!" Both men stopped, and she ran to block their future swings.

"Please… please stop…" she whimpered, wiping her eyes, "I… I decided…" And she looked up through tear-swollen eyes. "Please… just don't fight anymore…"

"Elizabeta, move," Roderich said sharply, "This isn't that simple-"

"But it is!" she said, grabbing his bladed hand, "It is… please, Roderich, understand…" She stepped closer, watching his expression dejectedly, "Let it go… please…" And slowly, his hand dropped to his side, and the blade fell to the ground. Gilbert watched, his heart wrenching in his chest, as she buried her face in his chest.

"Roderich, I will take Gilbert's punishment, just please… don't kill him…" she whispered. His arms curled around her slowly, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

"Elizabeta…" she was sobbing harder now, digging her fingers into his coat to find something to hold on to. "Please… don't cry anymore…"

"Then don't kill him," was her response, and he looked up coldly. Gilbert sheathed his blade.

"I've decided to leave today," he declared, and bowed to Roderich mockingly. "I see you have no honor, but I won't goad you into combat. Instead, I'll leave peaceably." He turned and glanced over his shoulder.

"Elizabeta, you've made your choice- yet you won the whole conflict. I don't know… why that worked." He turned. "But I won't be coming around anymore. Please, don't look for me." she turned around.

"I can't… promise that," she said. He shook his head.

"You'll be disappointed then." And he walked away. Elizabeta wanted to follow, to take his hand and make him stay, but knew she couldn't. It would be more disastrous than before…

"Roderich… please, forgive him. Punish me," the girl finally said, looking up. He looked at her through poignant eyes, eyes full of hurt.

"I… can't," he said, slowly letting go. She grabbed him by the cravat, startling him and herself. She didn't even know what she was saying until she had said it.

"No, you have to. I can take it- and he's gone." Then she let go and turned.

"I wouldn't blame you if you broke off the engagement," she said softly, "And never wanted to see me again… I was errant and you deserve better-"

"Elizabeta." She turned, and he pulled her close, touching just under her chin. His eyes were soft, gentle: forgiving.

"Let's pretend this never happened," he whispered, staring into her eyes, "I… I was never mad at you. I was ashamed at myself for not giving you the attention you needed, and the environment you loved. I felt inadequate because you needed to spend time with that wretched Prussian. But I never blamed _you_. I blamed _me_."

"It wasn't your fault," she said.

"It was," he said, "But now we can put it behind us… I love you, Elizabeta. Truly, truly love you." He kissed her tenderly, once, twice; then with a surprising swiftness, he swept her up in his arms and cradled his fiancée in his arms. "Let's go home and clean you up," he said tenderly, "And we can do what you wish."

"Why are you forgiving me?" she asked, staring at him in shock. Her eyes were tearing up again.

"Because I love you," he said softly, "And I'm a fool for you." He laughed softly. "You drive me crazy when I'm around you, and I go mad with longing when I don't see you. You could kill and I wouldn't love you any less. I would do anything you asked- I've utterly enamored, and I've fallen so hard I knocked my intellect loose.

"I hated that Prussian because he was like me- wildly in love with you, captivated by your charms and your beauty- and I didn't want to compete with another madman." He began to walk, and Elizabeta began to sniffle.

"Whatever are you crying for, darling?" he asked softly.

"I don't deserve you…" she whispered, "You're so forgiving and so loving… and I'm a deceitful tramp."

"Don't lie, Elizabeta!" he admonished, "You are far from a tramp… and what happened means nothing to me… oh, darling, don't cry, please…" she was trying to stop the flow of tears, but nothing would slow the rivers.

"Oh, dear…" he said, laughing softly, "You've cried so much today I find it a miracle you have any tears left…" He quieted her gently and carried her home, much to the awe of the people of Vienna that they passed. And when they finally arrived home, he helped clean her wounds and bandage them, then carried her to his room.

"I shall clean up your room," he said, "Just rest here until I return, and we can do what you want for the rest of the day." She nodded, and he hurried out.

When he was gone, she rolled onto her side and buried her face in his pillows. They smelled of him, and she couldn't help the few tears that formed. How she got such a forgiving man she hadn't the faintest. She owed more than she was worth to him for sparing Gilbert, but he refused. He only wanted to be with her. She squeezed the soft material of the bed sheets in her hands and curled up. She just wanted to lay with him and see if his forgiveness would rub off on her.

When Roderich returned, he joined her on the bed and held her to his chest while she rested. She was warm and soft, and her hair billowed beneath her like a cloud of caramel.

The regret came in. He regretted not eradicating the Prussian. He regretted not being there for Elizabeta. He regretted the year at school he spent, leaving her alone and unhappy. He regretted being the cause of the cuts on her legs and feet and of her tears.

But none of this he could fix, and he pushed the thoughts from his mind and rested his head on her shoulder to breathe in her scent. She always would smell like the forest: of pine and oak and beech and maple, of the moss and the water and the wildflowers. She would always be feral, untamable, but she would always be there to hold and love. Her eyelashes fluttered against his throat, and he looked over, but she merely snuggled closer to him and buried her face in his shoulder, mumbling softly. A small smile spread over his lips and he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek before resting and closing his eyes. Seven days until they were married. They said that on their wedding day, a bride was her most beautiful, but Roderich prayed they were wrong. If she was any more beautiful than she was now, at this moment, she would be taken back to Heaven.

"I love you, Elizabeta…" he whispered softly, his breath ghosting over her skin.

"I love you… too, Roderich…" she mumbled sleepily, and he smiled. _Was there ever a happier man…_

* * *

In a roadside pub in Prussia, a silver-haired man was finishing another stein of beer. He had his wallet resting beside his hand, ready to give money but not willing to do it just yet.

"Barkeep…? Another please?"

"Are you sure?" the man asked, but he fetched the man another mug. Gilbert took it and downed as much as he could before setting it down.

"I'll pay you extra," he said dejectedly, "If you find me a bigger glass." The man behind the counter nodded and disappeared, and the soldier sighed and finished his glass.

"Elizabeta…" he whispered. She had chosen- he knew from the beginning that she loved Roderich more, cared for him more… but why he thought he had a chance when he was competing against that man he hadn't the faintest idea. The Austrian had been right; he had been there for Elizabeta when she needed him, and Gilbert had only shown up when she was doing fine. Then he tried to ruin her happy life so she would need him- and it nearly cost both of them.

"It should have been the ultimate cost," he murmured, and he accepted the larger stein, filled to the brim with amber liquor. He drank deeply, feeling trickles of the liquid running down his chin and throat. He couldn't bear the thought of her anymore. A silver tear found its way down his cheek and mingled with the booze, and he set his drink down and rested his elbows on the bar.

The way she smiled, the way she laughed… the way her eyes lit up when she was thinking, or how they misted over when she was sad. The way she thought she could act like a man and think that Gilbert couldn't see through her act… her soft skin, her warm body, and the way her hair blew in the wind or caught snow. How small and lithe her hands were, and how she blushed when he touched them. How her nails gleamed like glass. How she pursed her lips when she was annoyed. How like a doll she seemed when she dressed up. How melodic her voice was. She was… perfect.

He finished his drink and ordered another, but the barkeep refused. And the Prussian didn't argue like he usually would. He paid for the booze he drank, and he left quietly. All of the fight had been sucked from him when Elizabeta chose that _wealthy_ _snob_ over him…

Instead of mounting his horse and going onward, he walked toward the stream on the side of the road and sat. His reflection repulsed him, and he threw a rock through his mirrored face in disgust.

"She never loved you," he said softly. His hand felt his belt, and he pulled the revolver from its holster. The steel gleamed white-silver in the moonlight. If Elizabeta had chosen him, he would have ended that patrician's life with a single shot. He stroked the cold steel. But she would never forgive him- she would never love him. He would always been known as the murderer to her.

He traced the circular opening of the barrel pensively. He would be deployed soon; and he would forget about Elizabeta Herdervary while he fought. Then he would settle down and have a brood of kids and never think of her again.

"That's a load of shit," he said, and a cold bark of laughter escaped his lips. He would never forget her, despite what he said. His reflection was back, and he hated how his crimson eyes mocked him so he threw another stone through his face, this time through his eye. Then he lay back on the gravel and the grass and stared at the stars.

"God, I know there was a reason that you didn't give Elizabeta to me… but why? What did that man do that I didn't? Why couldn't _I_ earn her love?" he sighed. "Why did she choose him over me, God?" There was no answer, and he closed his eyes.

"I understand… and I'm sorry for my sins… May you forgive me for lechery and lust, God… Amen…" He lay there for an hour before holstering his gun and getting to his feet. He traveled northward, stopping at a tavern every night and drinking until the barkeep stopped him. Then he would lie under the stars and try to force away the images of the green-eyed nomad from his mind.

He left for the West, dressed in the cold metal of war. He fought like a man possessed and leapt up the ranks. He wore his medals on his lapel and sleeves, but the gleam of silver and iron did nothing to alleviate the pain of loss. He reverted to the drink in his free time, and drank until he couldn't see straight, until his thoughts were shattered and nothing made sense. Since he was so cold, his men didn't approach him with their concerns.

They should have. Three years after he leapt to Brigadier General, he didn't report for duty. Two lieutenants were sent to find him, and he was found sprawled across his bunk. He was declared dead later that day, poisoned by the bottle he oft sought for comfort.

Yet the soldiers had said he looked serene. For once, his eyes weren't hard with hatred and cruelty. For once, his body wasn't tense and poised for a strike. He wasn't scowling. His muscles were loose and he was half-curled into a position of comfort. He wasn't wearing his jacket adorned with medals and starched shirt or his stiff uniform pants. He was relaxed.

For the first time in years, he was finally at ease.

Elizabeta never learned that her friend had died, but Roderich had found out from soldiers passing through town. He swore never to tell her, but he felt guilty withholding such precious information from her. He waited until she was sleeping one night, and he spoke softly. He told her that Gilbert had perished. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to say how. Then he fell silent, brushing the hair from her cheek gently.

Within minutes, Elizabeta began to whimper in her sleep, her face contorted with anguish. She mumbled something, but her voice grew steadily louder, and she woke up with a start and a cry. The tears began immediately. She held herself tightly and trembled.

"Elizabeta, what's wrong?" Roderich asked softly, cradling her to his chest.

"I just… had the worst dream," she whispered, clutching at his shirt and burying her face in his shoulder, "I was in some barrack, and there were people around one of the bunks. When… I got closer… it was Gilbert, Roderich! He w-was dead!" Roderich bit his lower lip.

"That's absurd, dear," he lied gently, stroking her hair, "He's fine, probably somewhere in the East. It was only a nightmare… would you like me to get you something before you go back to sleep?"

"No," she said faintly, "Just… h-hold me…" He agreed, and his heart ached as she tried to sleep but couldn't. Her body quivered with a fear she didn't know had been fulfilled. Roderich, the dutiful husband, played his role well and consoled her. His hand was on her back, pressing firm circles against her scapulas. And when she finally drifted off, he disentangled himself from her grip and rose, finding his way through the dark house.

Under the pall of night, Roderich poured himself a glass of brandy and let the burning liquid combat his guilt.

* * *

A/N: I'm sooorrry... *blubbers* I didn't mean to kill anyone... soooowwy... n Did you like it? Hate it? Indifferent? Tell me! :O R&R, give me things to write, etc. You guys drive me. :o _Merci pour lire_~!


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